I'll Stop the World and Melt With You
by My Reality is Fiction
Summary: Amelia Brown finds herself stranded in 1955 with her father's attractive, charming, and very unavailable assistant, Marty Mcfly. Will they be able to make it back to 1985? And will Amelia still be able to look Jennifer in the eye? 1st fanfic! R&R PLEASE!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Clearly, I don't own Back to the Future OR the characters affiliated with it. Nor do I own the idea of writing about Doc's daugher or the parts of the story that match up with the movie. I do own Amelia however and my own quaint little plot. Enjoy!

READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!!! : )

1985—Hill Valley High

"_Goooood morning Hill Valley! It's a beautiful morning, Friday October 25__th__, 7:30 am. We've got some great hits coming up for you in this next set…"_

Amelia pulled the covers further over her head just in time to muffle the beginnings of some Michael Jackson song. She was not ready to get up yet. Her father had been up all night long tinkering with something in his workshop. The bangs and "damnits!" had kept her up until exhaustion had finally pulled her under around 4:00. Even then she had not slept well. Her dreams had been littered with _him_…floating in and out…allusive as ever. If Marty Mcfly avoided her in her own subconscious there seemed little point to keep her hopes up. Besides, Marty had _perfect_ Jennifer, what did he need with plain old Amelia Brown?

Amelia sighed and rolled over, drowning out Madonna this time. Oh it wasn't like she hated Jennifer, how could she hate the best friend she ever had? She was mad at herself. Mad that she had had that stupid party last summer. Mad that she had introduced them. Mad that she hadn't told Jennifer how she felt beforehand. Now it was too late. Jennifer had told her in chemistry the other day that she was in love with Marty and, in her surprise, Amelia had accidentally dropped her beaker full of colored water all over her book. Oblivious to the intense pain she was causing, Jennifer continued to go on about her plans for her and Marty, which incidentally contained marriage and six or seven bundles of joy.

"And you'll be my maid of honor, of course," she had said, beaming expectantly at Amelia.

"Sure, Jen," she had said, smiling weakly back, still trying to soak up some of the purple water.

"What's the matter? You were fine a minute ago?"

"Nothing, Jen, I'm fine. It's just…my book. I'll have to pay for it now." Jennifer had looked unconvinced but didn't say anything.

She did not hate her best friend for falling in love…but she was jealous as sin.

Amelia looked at her clock, it was 7:45. School didn't start until 8:30 but she was cutting it close. By the time REO Speedwagon had started to tell her that he couldn't fight his feelings anymore, Amelia had convinced herself to get up. She shuffled groggily into her bathroom, teased her hair, tossed it into a half ponytail, and put on the necessary makeup. Then she threw on a hot pink sweater, black stirrup pants, and matching hot pink scrunch socks. Dressed and fully awake, Amelia darted downstairs to grab something to eat.

Her father, Doctor Emmett Brown, Doc to his close friends, was already sitting at the cluttered breakfast table. His eyes had large dark circles under them and his already untidy white hair was even more a mess. He seemed to be nodding off into his coffee when Amelia plopped down into the opposite chair.

"Morning, Dad," she said, grabbing a piece of toast. Emmett jerked his head up and grunted, "Long night?" It brought her an evil sort of satisfaction to see him like this.

"The time circuits weren't working properly…have to…fix it before…tonight," he yawned. "There's something wrong with the flux capacitor too, I'll have to—"

"Dad, you lost me at 'time circuits'," Amelia said, taking a swig of orange juice, "what have you been working on all night?"

"You'll find out tonight," Emmett said, sipping his coffee.

Amelia was about to argue that he owed her an explanation seeing as he kept her up all night when her watch beeped. 8:15, shit! She'd have to run for it now. Inhaling her last bite of toast, Amelia grabbed her books and jacket, kissed her father's forehead, and bolted out the door.

Amelia made it to homeroom with thirty seconds to spare. She was out of breath and red in the face, but at least she wouldn't get another detention from Strickland, Hill Valley High's hall Nazi. The bell rang and the teacher began to take attendance. Amelia settled back in her desk and turned to her right to whisper to Jennifer, but she wasn't there. The desk behind her was empty too. No Marty. Amelia frowned, a vast litany of possible scenarios playing out in her head, everything from making out behind the football field to running to off to Vegas to get married.

She was just musing the possibility of a shotgun wedding when Marty and Jennifer strolled into the class, pink slips in hand. Strickland. Well, at least they weren't married.

The bell rang for first period before Marty or Jennifer had a chance to sit down. They waited for Amelia in the hallway outside the door and the three of them walked to their lockers. Amelia tossed her books inside and went about the task of fixing her windblown hair. Jennifer and Marty laughed at something next to her. She cringed internally.

"Oh! I have to talk to Mr. Welsh about my English paper!" Jennifer exclaimed suddenly. "I'll see you guys later!" She planted a kiss on Marty and skipped off.

Marty leaned against his locker and sighed. Amelia continued to fluff her hair. She really wasn't in the mood to hear about how great Jennifer was. She already had to sit and listen to Jennifer spill her life story in Chem. Amelia wondered sometimes if she knew more about Marty's love life than Marty did. It was embarrassing really, some of the things that Jennifer decided to share. Amelia knew everything from their first kiss to how they had started talking about taking "the next step". A step that Amelia had tried to convince Jennifer she wasn't nearly ready for. Sex complicated things she had told Jennifer…not that she would really know though.

"Aims, I think your hair is tall enough," Marty laughed, jerking Amelia back to reality. She blushed and closed her locker.

"Sorry, I was thinking."

"About what?" Marty asked, starting to walk with her to history class.

"Nothing…just…my dad kept me up late last night." It wasn't really a lie…but not quite the truth either.

"Hey I almost forgot, he called me this morning," Marty said, opening the door for her.

"What for?" Amelia set her books down on her desk and spun around in her seat to look at Marty.

"He was mumbling most of it," Marty said, slouching into his chair, "but he said something about meeting him at Twin Pines Mall tonight around one. Got any idea what he's up to?"

Amelia snorted.

"Please, you know how he gets…he wouldn't tell me anything. I was hoping you would know. You're his assistant or whatever."

"Naw, I'm just the kid who breaks stuff," Marty smiled. It was her favorite smile, the one that crinkled his eyes and flashed all of his teeth. Amelia's stomach did a funny flip flop.

She liked it best this way, when it was just her and Marty. Everything came so naturally around him. Ever since he had started helping out her dad they had become as close as a man and woman could without actually being a couple. She would say brother and sister but her own feelings prevented her from labeling them that way. Whenever they were alone together it just felt right, and history class had presented many opportunities for them to be alone together what with their joint projects and study sessions. Lucky for her, Jennifer's least favorite subject was history so she always politely declined when Marty offered to bring her along.

Those were her best memories. The two of them sprawled out on her living room floor the night before a big test, drinking Pepsi, making fun of Strickland. Sometimes, if she was having trouble remembering a date or fact, Marty was scoot close to her and help her find the answer in her book. He would lean so close it would make her head spin. Amelia's face would be on fire the whole time. Marty would politely ignore it and continue reading to her. Then he would smile her favorite smile and scoot back to his own work. Time and again she would catch him looking at her with a funny sort of grin on his face. But he always looked away quickly whenever she happened to notice. In moments like that, he was her Marty.

Halfway through the class, Marty tapped Amelia on the shoulder. She leaned back in her chair so he could whisper in her ear.

"Why does it have to be at 1?" He asked, continuing their earlier conversation.

"I told you he wouldn't say anything," Amelia whispered back.

"If I get caught sneaking out that late do you know what my mom will do to me? I'm supposed to go to the lake this weekend, you know?" Yes, she knew. Jennifer had told her all about it. But at that moment, with Marty's lips so close to her skin and his warm breath blowing the hair on the back of her neck, she was too distracted to feel jealousy.

"You never get caught Marty Mcfly," Amelia teased when she had found her voice again.

"Yeah sure," Marty muttered, pulling back slightly.

"Come on, Marty, Dad wouldn't have asked you to do it if he hadn't thought it was important." Amelia felt a hand squeeze her shoulder and then his breath was gone completely.

"You're right, Aims, I'll be there."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Clearly, I don't own Back to the Future OR the characters affiliated with it. Nor do I own the idea of writing about Doc's daugher or the parts of the story that match up with the movie. I do own Amelia however and my own quaint little plot. Enjoy!

READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!!! : )

1985—Twin Pines Mall

They had shot him. The van had pulled into the JC Penny's parking lot at Twin Pines Mall and a man with a gun had stood up and just…shot him. Just killed him in cold blood in front of everyone; in front of Amelia, Marty, Einstein…everyone! It was surreal to think that moments before Emmett Brown had been leading a relatively normal life and then BOOM. Dead. Amelia's knees felt weak.

A half hour before, they had been riding in their big ugly van to the mall. Marty was meeting them there with her dad's video camera. Emmett, who apparently had squeezed in a nap sometime that afternoon, was jazzed up about revealing whatever it was he was revealing. He kept muttering unintelligible things and saying "Ha ha!" a lot. Amelia tuned him out. She watched the lights dance off the wet pavement and pet Einstein absentmindedly. Her dad was a brilliant man, but sometimes his mutterings got too much for Amelia.

When they had reached the deserted parking lot, Amelia helped her father unload the back of the van. They pushed a large tarp covered object, she assumed it was a car from the feel of it, a few feet away from their van and waited for Marty to show up. He skateboarded his way to them not long after, frowning at the tarp.

"Turn on the Camera, Marty," Emmett said quickly, pulling the tarp away.

It was a DeLorean, a tricked out DeLorean DMC. Marty and Amelia exchanged confused glances. Emmett had dragged them out in the middle of the night to see a car? She shrugged and Marty pulled the camera away from his face.

"Doc, what the hell—"

"Keep rolling, Marty!" Emmett insisted, "And follow me."

The three of them and Einstein approached the DeLorean. Emmett opened the door and patted the seat. Einstein hopped inside and looked expectantly at them, tongue lolling in his mouth.

"As you can see, Einstein's watch and mine are in perfect synchronization," Emmett told the camera. "I will now attempt to send Einstein exactly one minute into the past."

"Wait, Doc," Marty said, dropping the camera again.

"Keep filming!" Emmett yelled.

"But, Doc…" Emmett waved his hand to silence Marty and started plugging numbers into a keypad underneath a strange digital clock-like thing.

"I simply punch in the date and time of departure," Emmett narrated to the camera as he plugged in the numbers, "then the date and time of desired arrival. Watch your head, Einie."

Emmett closed the door of the DeLorean and motioned for them to get back. Amelia and Marty scurried out of the way, Marty's eye still pressed to the viewer on the camera. Emmett pulled a remote control out of the van and flipped a switch. The DeLorean revved to life.

"You got that thing hooked up to the…car," Marty trailed off at the look Emmett gave him.

"Watch this," Emmett said.

"Yeah, sure," Marty muttered. He raised his eyebrows at Amelia and adjusted the camera on his shoulder.

Emmett reversed the DeLorean, the tires squealing as the car skidded on the slick blacktop. He backed it up a good two hundred feet away from where they stood. Then Emmett grabbed both of them by the arm and yanked them in the direct path of the car.

"If my calculations are correct," Emmett told them, flipping more switches on his remote control, "when this baby hits 88 mph you're gonna see some serious shit."

Emmett pushed a lever up on the remote and the car growled, tires spinning on the pavement. He pushed the lever further and further up and the car's roars grew louder. The smell of burning rubber hit them. Amelia looked from her father to the car. He had a strange crazed look in his eyes as he revved the engine. She carefully positioned herself behind Marty. Instinctively, he locked his frame protectively, all the while filming the snarling DeLorean.

Suddenly, Emmett flipped a switch and the car shot towards them. Amelia let out a cry and tried to step back but her father had a tight grip on her forearm. The car was streaming towards them, squealing with relief.

"Dad!" Amelia cried as the car drew ever closer. Marty shifted nervously in front of her.

"Watch this, watch this!" Emmett whispered franticly.

Amelia stared wide-eyed at the DeLorean. A bluish-white light illuminated from it. Sparks flew here and there like Fourth of July fireworks. All the while the car sped toward them at breakneck speed. When the car was about fifty feet away, an enormous ball of white light exploded in front of them. There was a series of earsplitting cracks and the DeLorean disappeared into thin air, leaving nothing behind but two lines of fire.

"88 MILES PER HOUR!" Emmett jumped up and down triumphantly.

"Jesus Christ," Amelia breathed, following the lines of fire between her legs and out a good ten feet behind her.

"Jesus Christ, Doc," Marty echoed from behind the camera, "you disintegrated Einstein!"

"Relax you two," Emmett said, beaming at the spot where the DeLorean should have been, "the molecular structure of both Einstein and the car are still completely intact."

"Then where the hell are they, Dad?" Amelia demanded, stepping away from the flames.

"The appropriate question is WHEN the hell are they," Emmett laughed. "Einstein has just become the world's first time traveler! And watch your mouth, young lady."

Marty let the camera drop slightly. He looked at the flames, the empty space where the DeLorean had been moments before, and finally Emmett.

"Doc," Marty said slowly as he pieced everything together, "are you telling me you made a _time machine_…out of a DeLorean?"

"The way I see it, if you're going to build a time machine into a car why not do it with a little style? Besides, the stainless steel body provided perfect for the flux capaci—look out!" Emmett's watch beeped and he yanked Amelia and Marty to the right. There was a flash of light and the DeLorean materialized before their eyes.

Amelia was in shock, so much so that she really didn't hear much of what her father or Marty said after that. She caught brief snippets here and there. Tidbits about the car itself being electrical, but the flux capacitor (whatever the hell that was supposed to be) running on plutonium. She heard Marty having a fit about stolen plutonium but couldn't register it. Then her father opened the DeLorean and entered new numbers into the keypad, an action she observed without actually seeing. She was in some sort of suspended animation where amazement was the only emotion that she connected to. Her father had finally invented something that worked, son of a bitch.

The squealing of tires pulled her out of her daze. Amelia blinked confusedly…the DeLorean wasn't moving? She turned to her father but he wasn't looking at her. His focus was somewhere in the darkness of the empty parking lot. His eyes were wide and terrified, his face as white as a sheet.

"They've found me…I don't know how they've done it but they've found me!" Emmett was frozen where he stood, paralyzed with fear by something that neither Amelia nor Marty could see.

"Who's found you, Doc," Marty asked cautiously.

"The Libyans!" Emmett choked.

Amelia spun around in time to see a blue and white Volkswagen bus streaking towards them. A hatch on the roof was thrown open and a man with an assault rifle popped out. He started yelling in a strange language and firing off shots into the air. Amelia muffled another cry and moved closer to Marty again. He glanced at her, her fear reflected in his eyes. Neither of them knew what to do and Emmett seemed too horrified to offer any paternal suggestions of fleeing for their lives.

Emmett put his hands in the air and took a few careful steps away from them. Amelia bit her lip and grabbed on to Marty's vest. Marty cooed something like "it'll be ok" but she couldn't hear him. All she was conscious of was the burly man holding her father at gun point. His eyes blazing like hellfire, his speech foreign and terrifying. Even if she had wanted to say something to him, to persuade him to go back to wherever he had come from and leave them all alone, she wouldn't have been able to make him understand. They were trapped between an assault rifle and bad communication.

The Libyans skidded to a halt five feet in front of Emmett. For a second they stared at each other. Or, rather, Emmett stared and the Libyans glared. Then, without so much as a warning, the Libyan with the rifle opened fire on Emmett, spraying him with bullets. Emmett's body convulsed and he staggered backwards. Amelia tried to scream but no sound came out. She watched as her father collapsed in a heap where he stood.

"NO, BASTARDS!" Marty yelled.

The Libyan looked up and sneered. He cocked his rifle and opened fire on Marty and Amelia. The stray bullets ricocheted off the pavement and the stainless steel of the DeLorean. They dove behind the front of the van and avoided being peppered by inches. The Libyan assassin yelled something to his driver and the Volkswagen came skidding around the other side of the van. Victory written all over his face, The Libyan pointed his rifle at both of them and made to fire. Nothing happened. There was a hollow clicking sound. He was out of ammunition.

Seizing the opportunity, Marty shoved Amelia towards the DeLorean. They sprinted the few feet and Amelia yanked open the door. She dove across to the passenger seat and Marty followed, slamming the door after himself. Marty turned the key and laid on the gas. The DeLorean lurched forward and they went screaming across the JC Penny's parking lot. The Libyans swerved out behind them, spraying them with their ammunition. Marty changed gears and floored it.

"Let's see if these bastards can do 90," he growled. They sped off across the parking lot, putting more and more distance between themselves and the Volkswagen.

Without warning the car began to shake. Bluish-white sparks shot out around them. Marty looked at Amelia with wide eyed terror. _Was it the Libyans? Had they shot us? _The DeLorean shook more violently and the car got very cold. From inside the car it sounded like a lightning storm was happening around them. The bluish-white light got very bright and seemed to overtake the entire car. There was a final and particularly violent shake, a sonic boom, and then blackness.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Clearly, I don't own Back to the Future OR the characters affiliated with it. Nor do I own the idea of writing about Doc's daugher or the parts of the story that match up with the movie. I do own Amelia however and my own quaint little plot. Enjoy!

READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!!!! : )

????—????

The mall parking lot had transformed before Amelia or Marty had a chance to blink. The pavement, light poles, benches, advertisements, and the mall itself had disappeared as easily as if they had been changing channels on the television. Instead of tearing across black top, Marty and Amelia found themselves streaking through a cornfield. The dried up cornstalks whacked the sides of the DeLorean and obscured their vision. Marty did his best to steer the car through the disorienting darkness and cornstalks but his panic made it difficult to retain complete control of anything. The DeLorean swerved manically towards a huge scarecrow.

"Marty, look out!" Amelia yelled, clutching her seat.

Marty's reaction came too late and instead of missing the scarecrow it splayed across the windshield and blinded them. Marty jerked the steering wheel in an attempt to shake it off. Instead, the car swerved out of the cornfield and rocketed towards a barn. Amelia screamed and closed her eyes. There was a crash as the DeLorean broke through the barn door. They smashed through several more walls before the car lost enough momentum for it to be stopped by the back wall of the barn. The scarecrow slipped off the windshield and onto the hay floor. There was a moment of stunned silence before Marty turned to her.

"You ok?" he asked.

Amelia nodded.

"Holy shit," Marty breathed, leaning his head on the back of the seat and closed his eyes. "Holy shit!"

Amelia released her vice-like grip on the seat and took a deep breath. Astonishingly, miraculously they were alive. How they had managed to get away from the Libyans, Amelia wasn't quite sure, but they _had_ managed. Something had happened. Something had taken them away. All that light…and the shaking… She knew what it must have been but the thought was so mindboggling it made her head spin.

"Marty," Amelia said softly, "should we get out? We have no idea where we are."

"No," Marty said, his eyes snapping open, "you stay here. I'll make sure it's safe."

He stared to wrench himself out of the DeLorean. Amelia pursed her lips and made to open her door as well. _"Make sure it's safe", _because that Libyan had been a cake walk…

"Fine," Marty muttered. Right now it wasn't worth the fight.

Marty was the first one to the barn door, or what was left of it. He yanked it open and took a cautious step outside.

"Hello?" he called, "sorry about your barn…"

BOOM!

"Marty!" Amelia yelled. It was unbelievable. For the second time tonight they were being shot at! What were the odds!

Marty tripped his way back into the barn. He grabbed her hand and all but threw her back inside the DeLorean. He shifted the car into reverse and hit the gas as hard as he could. They accelerated out of the barn and sped backwards towards a road. Whoever was shooting at them continued to fire but they were soon out of range. Marty spun the car around, shifted to drive, and sped off.

"Get a grip on yourself, Mcfly," Marty muttered to himself, "it's just a dream…a really intense dream."

"Marty, I don't think this is a dream," Amelia said, looking around. Everything was too real, too tangible to be a dream. The way the dust felt in her mouth, the smell of the sulfur from the farmer's shotgun, the way the gravel road crunched under the DeLorean's tires. It was definitely not a dream.

The sky outside had started to lighten. Apparently it was morning wherever they were. They kept driving, at a more normal pace now, down the unnamed road in an unnamed direction. Marty's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. His jaw was set in a hard line. Amelia could guess what he was thinking about. Now, in this first moment of retrospective silence, Marty was probably mulling over exactly the same thing Amelia was trying to block out. She wasn't ready for the torrent of emotions she knew would come flooding out of her the moment she allowed herself to consider her father dead. Nor was she ready to accept exactly what had happened to them and where they both knew they were. The first would be the easiest to keep at bay, she could just not think about him. The second…well…that would have to be dealt with soon if they had any chance of getting home.

"Aims," Marty said, slowing the car down and staring out her window, "look at that."

It was a road sign for Hill Valley. Amelia looked around her. She was surrounded by farmland and fields. Certainly not the Hill Valley she was used to. No shopping malls or restaurants, none of the sprawling suburbia she had grown up around. Amelia desperately tried to find a landmark that might tell her just how far out of town they were but nothing was familiar. Not even a tree. Then again, commercial Hill Valley really didn't promote greenery.

"Where the hell do you think we are?" Marty asked, squinting from the rays of the now almost fully risen sun.

"Marty," Amelia motioned out her window.

Marty slowed the car to a crawl, finally stopping opposite a giant billboard. It was an advertisement for a new housing development. A happy couple stood outside an attractive flat while their children played in an unrealistically green yard. The caption read "Coming Soon, Lyon Estates!" Marty mouthed the words and his eyes got big.

"Aims," he said, his voice cracking, "where's my house?"

"Marty, I don't think you're house has been built yet," she said, looking at the wide open space that was being excavated.

Marty parked the car and got out. _She's right,_ he thought, _there's not a damn thing here!_ He ran a hand through his hair twice.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, pacing outside of the car. Amelia leaned over the armrest to look at him

"I think we must have…gone back," she said. Marty stared at her. "In time," she added.

"Jesus Christ…"

"I mean, I can't be sure until we find out the date…this might all just be a 'really intense dream', but the theory does make sense. I mean, look around! Nothing is here. Not even a real road! It's completely logical to assume—"

"Aims," Marty cut her off, getting back inside the DeLorean, "I think logic flew out the window when Doc zapped Einie into thin air!"

"But that's exactly why it makes sense that _we've _been zapped into thin air as well! Marty, you were there! You saw it with your own eyes! Why are you being so stubborn?" Amelia's voice began to shake with emotion. She bit her tongue.

"I'm sorry, Amelia," Marty said gently. "I never meant to doubt that this thing worked. Look, I believe you, ok? I've just…well…this is heavy stuff." He sighed. Amelia wanted to touch him, to stroke his face, but he turned away from her.

"I'm sorry about—" Marty started after a moments silence.

"Please, don't." Amelia cut him off. She couldn't deal with that right now. "We should get out of the middle of the road. As if crashing into a barn hasn't called enough attention to us." She offered him a small smile and he returned it. "I suppose if we drove into one of these fields we could zap back to 1985 without anyone noticing."

"Sounds like a plan," Marty said, turning the key.

The engine sputtered and then died. Amelia and Marty looked at each other. Marty turned the ignition again. The engine faltered and refused to catch.

"Son of a bitch!" Marty yelled, slamming his fists down on the steering wheel. "God damnit!"

"What's wrong?" Amelia asked, already knowing the answer.

"It's dead!" Marty stormed, kicking the door open. "Help me push this piece of junk."

Amelia got out and went around to the back of the car.

"Marty, we can't push this into town," she said when they had begun to shove, "what if something happens to it? What if it gets stolen?"

"Good point," Marty grunted. "We'll push it behind the billboard. Come on."

When the DeLorean had been successfully shoved into its hiding place and covered with a few branches, Marty and Amelia, exhausted and sweaty, began their 2 mile walk to Hill Valley.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Clearly, I don't own Back to the Future OR the characters affiliated with it. Nor do I own the idea of writing about Doc's daugher or the parts of the story that match up with the movie. I do own Amelia however and my own quaint little plot. Enjoy!

READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!!!! : )

1955—Main Street of Hill Valley

Needless to say, they hardly blended in. Marty in his puffy orange vest and Nikes and Amelia in her hot pink sweater ensemble were quite a sight as they strolled down Main Street. Some people politely ignored them. Others blatantly stared and giggled or turned to whisper in someone's ear. Neither Marty nor Amelia noticed however, they both had other things on their mind. Like how the DeLorean was currently out of commission and masquerading as a bush.

"There's gotta be some way to fix it," Marty said for about the eighteenth time. Amelia sighed.

"It's probably just outta gas."

"Aims, were you not listening to your dad last night? The car doesn't run on gas. And unless you can have a bunch of plutonium stashed away somewhere…we're kinda screwed." Amelia felt a lump come to her throat at the mention of her father. She swallowed it back.

"Oh…guess I missed that part."

They had reached the main park of town by this time. It wasn't too different from 1985 Hill Valley, just simpler. There were a few shops up and down either side of the street, a movie house, a gas station with scurrying attendants. The gym was gone, and the Texaco, but it wasn't entirely unrecognizable as the town they had grown up in. At least the clock tower looked as it ever did, definitely newer and in working order, but the same as they remembered.

Where the gym used to be, or was yet to be, was a place called Lou's Cafe. Amelia could tell Marty had an idea even before he opened his mouth. His eyes lit up and something like hope spread across his face.

"I'll be right back." He ran across the street, leaving Amelia alone.

Amelia took a seat on a park bench. It was a nice day, sunny, a little chilly but not too bad. She looked around her. There were a few people here and there, darting across the streets, popping in and out of shops. There weren't hardly any cars on the roads, only a couple now and then stopping to get gas at the quaint little station next to her. She found herself enjoying this version of Hill Valley more than her own. Everything was happening at a much slower pace here. It was nice.

A man dropped a newspaper in the trashcan next to the bench as he walked by. Careful not to attract too much attention (she wasn't sure how well things like this would be tolerated wherever she was) Amelia fished it out. Shaking out the paper so it would lay flat, Amelia scanned the front page for the information she was looking for. There at the top, just underneath the name of the paper, was the date. Amelia didn't know why she was surprised to read it. After all, she knew it had been coming. Still, her knees felt weak and she was glad that there happened to be a bench already underneath her.

It was November 5, 1955.

1955...30 years in the past…13 years before she was due to be born. She didn't even exist yet. She probably wasn't even an _idea _yet.

Amelia saw Marty emerge from Lou's and tipped the paper back into the trash can. When he got closer Amelia noticed he was holding something, a yellow piece of paper like from a phonebook. Marty sat down next to her and spread the paper out on his knee. He traced his finger down a column of names and then stopped halfway down the page.

"Riverside Drive," he said, crumpling up the paper and shoving it into his coat pocket.

"Riverside Drive?"

Marty looked uncomfortable.

"Did you know its 1955?" he asked.

"Yeah…how did you find out?"

"Phonebook."

"Oh."

"Look, Aims," Marty shifted nervously next to her, putting Amelia on her guard, "don't hate me when I tell you this."

Amelia furrowed her brow.

"What's the matter, Marty?"

"I didn't know what else to do, Amelia. I didn't know who else we might be able to go to who would believe us. So…I looked up your father."

Amelia felt all the breath escape her lungs.

"And?" she breathed.

"He's alive…that's what Riverside Drive means. We have to get to his house. He's the only one who will be able to help us get back to 1985! I'm sorry," he added, "I know what this is gonna do to you."

"And we're going to him?"

"Yeah…"

Amelia couldn't breathe. Her head was spinning, throbbing. Hours before she had watched him die, had watched that Libyan son-of-a-bitch make swiss-cheese out of him, and now they were going to knock on his door and chat about flux capacitors? It was a cruel and inhuman joke. So she would get to talk to her father again but he wouldn't know who she was? Wouldn't even know how much she loved him? Or how much he loved her? And then, after all that, after seeing him alive and healthy, Amelia would have to return to 1985 and lose him all over again? The thought of seeing him cornered again made her feel nauseous.

"Marty, I don't know if I can." Tears began to well in her eyes. She knew that there would be no choking these back.

"Aims, we gotta, there's nobody else to go to. The Doc's our only hope."

"I can't lose him twice in one night, Marty, I just can't!"

The tears came for real now. Marty put his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. Amelia clung to him, sobbing into his vest. Her whole body was shaking from the intensity of her grief. Salt water spilled over her lashes and drenched the front of his shirt, staining it with her mascara. Amelia continued to wail, a throaty sound that Marty felt reverberated in his bones. He wasn't much of a comfort counselor normally, preferring to avoid hysterical girls at all costs, but he felt that he had to be there for Amelia. It was as if it were his job to protect her. And it wasn't simply because people were beginning to glare at him as if he had something to do with the poor girl's misery. No, it was deeper than that, more personal. Certainly never a feeling he had experienced before. It was like she _belonged_ to him.

_But that's ridiculous…I have Jennifer._

Amelia's sobs began to quiet. Marty had a feeling that they weren't gone for good, just being kept at bay for the moment. He pet her hair and rocked her back and forth. She let her head rest against his shoulder and closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths as she did so. Her cheeks were burning and she could feel her eyes swelling up. Dying seemed like a nice option, but that would leave Marty stranded all alone. No…she'd just have to wait to curl up into a ball of self-pity, however attractive the thought might seem.

"We should get going," she said thickly.

"Are you gonna be ok?"

"Does that really matter? We have to get home. And you're right; my father is the only one who can help us." Amelia pulled herself away from the warmth of his body and wiped her eyes. He had to hand it to her. She put up a nice front.

"Aims," Marty turned her face back to his, "you don't have to go with if you don't want to. I could find you some other place to—"

"Don't be silly, Marty, where am I gonna go? Its 1955, we're not supposed to exist. Everyone who knows us, or will know us, is not going to believe that we came from the future! They'll have us institutionalized!" She was right.

"I just hate seeing you miserable, Aims," he stroked her face. Amelia felt her skin cool and tingle at his touch. It was like he dragged an ice cube across her cheek, only more pleasant.

"I'll live."

Marty smirked.

"I guess. Come on."

He pushed himself off the park bench and offered her his hand. Amelia paused for a moment and then took it. She thought about feeling bad about holding hands with her best friend's boyfriend and decided not to. He was just being nice, she told herself. Jennifer certainly couldn't get angry at her for something like this, especially under the circumstances. Marty was being a friend, a shoulder to cry on, Jennifer would understand that. It wasn't like he had tried to kiss her or anything.

Still, as they walked hand in hand down the sidewalk, Amelia couldn't help hoping. She couldn't suppress the butterflies building in her stomach or the way her heart skipped a beat every time he brushed his thumb over the top of her hand. No, she couldn't help wishing even though she knew it was in vain. _He's just being nice, _she repeated to herself. Marty loved Jennifer and Jennifer loved Marty. There was no room for Amelia Brown anywhere in that equation. She would have to work on pushing those thoughts about Marty out of her head. She was strong, and the sooner she began to consider herself completely isolated from everyone the better. Amelia couldn't let silly dreams about Marty being her savior get in the way of the cold reality she would have to face. The more she believed her daydreams the harder life would be when she was forced to wake up. It would be just like when her mother died. It had taken her a while, but soon Amelia had blocked out every memory of her that caused pain. And so it would be with Marty.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Clearly, I don't own Back to the Future OR the characters affiliated with it. Nor do I own the idea of writing about Doc's daugher or the parts of the story that match up with the movie. I do own Amelia however and my own quaint little plot. Enjoy!

READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!!!! : )

1955—Neighborhoods of Hill Valley

"I met my father in the café," Marty said as they walked down the sidewalk. They had made it out of the center of town and were exploring one of Hill Valley's many neighborhoods. Neither of them had any idea where Riverside Drive was. It didn't exist in 1985.

"You didn't talk to him did you?" Amelia asked, immediately wary. She didn't think that messing with the past seemed like a good idea.

"Well…kinda…" Marty admitted, not looking at her. "Biff came in."

"Biff?"

"My dad's boss, he was a real asshole to him. Guess not much has changed in thirty years. Anyway, he started beating up on him and I might have…well…Aims, I couldn't just let him beat the shit outta my old man!"

"Marty," Amelia groaned.

"Look, it's no big deal."

"Did you ever think that what we do here might affect our version of 1985? I don't think it's a good idea to interact with anybody if we can help it."

"Okay, okay. It's no big deal, Aims, really. So my dad doesn't get beat up today. It's not like that will alter history or anything." Marty shrugged.

Amelia looked sideways at him but didn't say anything. She still didn't think it was a good idea to go messing around with the past. If everything happened for a reason, which she believed it did, then they could be putting themselves at serious risk by getting involved with past events. They might even compromise their existence entirely! She personally didn't have much to live for anymore, but Marty still had a life in 1985, a life that she was determined to get him back to.

"What the hell?" Marty stopped under an oak tree and squinted up into the branches. "Jesus Christ, it's my old man."

Amelia looked up. Marty's dad had climbed the tree and was spread out over a particularly thick branch. He was shimmying his way farther forward, dragging his body over the bark. When he had found a spot he liked, he pulled out a pair of binoculars and fastened them to his eyes. Amelia followed his line of sight. He was spying directly into the upstairs window of the house across the street. As she watched, a girl came into view. Then, to her shock and disgust, the girl removed her blouse. Marty's dad wiggled on his branch. Amelia hit Marty on the arm.

"You're dad's a peeping tom!"

"Apparently," Marty said, scowling up at his father.

"Aren't you gonna do anything?" Amelia demanded.

"You're the one who said not to get involved," Marty raised his eyebrows.

"But this is disgusting!"

Marty shrugged.

"What am I supposed to do? Yank him out of the tree?"

The sound of an engine met their ears and a car rounded the corner. Marty's dad lost his hold on the trunk and began to fall. He clung to the bark as hard as he could but he wasn't strong enough to pull himself up. His hands slipped and he fell into the street. Without thinking, Marty darted into the road and shoved him out of the way of the oncoming car. A split second later the car hit Marty, knocking him backward. There was a crack as Marty's head hit the pavement. He didn't move.

Amelia stood frozen. She looked at Marty's dad and their eyes met for a fraction of a second. At the sound of the car door opening, however, he scurried across the street, grabbed his bike, and peddled away. She didn't know what to do. The driver was out of the car by this time. He was standing over Marty, surveying his damage. Amelia hid behind the oak tree. The man yelled for his wife and she watched as they both carried Marty into their house. The door closed and Amelia was left alone.

Marty had a very strange dream. He was running through fog, thick grey fog that obscured his vision and prevented him from knowing which direction he was headed. The fog swirled around him. He was lost and confused, staggering around an unknown world. He called out to Jennifer. She appeared beside him and took his hand, leading him through the mist. The farther they walked the cloudier it became. Soon he couldn't see Jennifer at all. He only knew she was still with him by the pressure of her hand holding his. What was even stranger was that even though Jennifer was clinging to him he still felt completely alone. It was as if she wasn't there at all. Marty felt anxious, like he was going in the wrong direction but didn't know how to turn around. Jennifer appeared before him and smiled. Marty searched her face but still felt the same desolate emptiness. Jennifer smile faltered and she let go of his hand. The mist cleared a little and he heard his name being called faintly. _Marty…Marty…_

"Mom?" he muttered. Someone pressed a cool rag to his forehead. It was a nice feeling.

"There there now, just relax. You're safe and sound." A voice said.

Marty readjusted himself. A sharp pain shot through his head. He stopped moving immediately. What had happened? Where was he? He felt around. He was lying in a bed by the feel of it. His bed maybe? Could it really have all just been a dream? Marty's hopes shot through the roof.

The cool rag was back, wiping his face.

"You've been asleep for almost nine hours," the voice spoke again.

"I had a horrible dream…I was lost and wandering around," Marty muttered groggily, pulling the covers closer to him.

"Well, you're safe now," the voice reassured, "back in good old 1955."

"1955!?" Marty sat bold upright. The action made his head throb. He felt suddenly nauseous.

"Of course, silly," the voice flipped on a lamp. It was a girl, about his age, fairly pretty and faintly familiar. Then, with a burst of recognition, he realized who she was.

"You're my m—my m—"

"Calm down, Calvin, you hit your head pretty hard."

Marty pulled back the covers with the intention of standing up but quickly recovered himself when he realized he wasn't wearing any pants.

"Where are my pants?" he demanded.

"Over there, on my hope chest," Lorraine said sheepishly. "I've never seen purple underwear before, Calvin."

"Calvin? Why do you keep calling me Calvin?"

"That's your name isn't it? Calvin Klein? It's written all over your underwear." Marty tightened his hold on the comforter. Lorraine blushed. "Oh, I guess they call you Cal."

"Actually, people call me…Marty." Marty was extremely uncomfortable. He wanted to find Amelia and get the hell out of here…but first he wanted his pants.

"Pleased to meet you, Calvin…Marty," Lorraine sat down next to him on the bed. Marty inched away.

"Hey, eh…look I was with somebody earlier, a girl. About my height, brownish hair, thin, goes by Amelia. Have you seen her?" Lorraine looked instantly disappointed.

"Oh, her," she grumbled. "Yes, she's been sitting downstairs for hours. I tried to tell her to go home and we'd call her when you woke up but she insisted on waiting." By the look on Lorraine's face Marty was sure she would have liked nothing more than for a car to run over Amelia as well.

"I should get going then, we're kinda in a hurry to get somewhere."

"Oh do you have to go? That bruise on your head is so big!" Lorraine made to touch his forehead, Marty shifted away.

"If you could just send Amelia up that'd be great." Marty's awkward level was at its max. This was his mother!

"Oh…alright…" Lorraine frowned and stood up. She tossed him his pants with a devilish grin before she left.

_I've got a bad feeling about this, _he thought as he slipped his pants back on.

Amelia knocked on the door a moment later.

"Come in," Marty called.

Amelia burst through the door and flew at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his. Marty froze for a second, surprised by her actions. Then he put his arms around her waist and squeezed back. She was soft in his arms, it felt nice. Her hair smelled like vanilla.

Amelia pulled away too soon for his tastes and Marty could have kicked himself. What the hell was he doing? What about Jennifer? He couldn't do this to her. He loved her after all…didn't he? _No, that's stupid, of course I love her._ His stomach felt sour after he thought the words, like he had eaten something rotten and was beginning to regret it.

"I was so scared," Amelia said, "you didn't move and then they took you into the house! I didn't know what had happened to you. I waited for about an hour, and then when you didn't come out I knocked on the door. I've been waiting downstairs the whole time. I'm afraid your mother doesn't like me too much," she bit her lip.

"How did you know it was my—" Marty asked, confused.

Amelia laughed.

"Marty, it wasn't that hard to figure out. You look just like her after all." Amelia's eyes suddenly became urgent. "We have to go. It's about six thirty, we've lost all that time and we still don't know where Riverside Drive is!"

Marty was already collecting his things. Apparently, Lorraine had taken it upon herself to empty his pockets and go through his wallet as well.

"We can ask somebody downstairs. Let's go."

"We should really find other clothes, you know. Your grandmother looked at me like I was from outer space," Amelia commented as they left Lorraine's bedroom.

"I don't know how long you plan to spend in 1955," Marty commented, "but I don't plan to be here long enough for my fashion sense to be an issue."

"I'm just saying…"

"Let's just get to your dad's place first before we go making any decisions, okay?"

"Fair enough."

The Baines family was sitting around the dinner table when they reached the bottom of the stairs. Lorraine's mother, Marty's future grandmother, called to them when she heard their feet in the hall. Amelia followed Marty into the dining room. Marty's family was squashed around the table, eating and watching television. Lorraine looked up when they walked in and flashed Marty a most becoming smile. Marty's mouth twitched halfheartedly in response.

"Why don't you two sit down and have some dinner?" Marty's grandmother asked. She was a kind faced woman and Amelia liked her instantly.

"Gee, we wish we could but we've really gotta be going," Marty apologized.

"Oh, do you have to, Calvin? I mean, Dad almost killed you with the car. It's the least we could do." Lorraine's voice was sickeningly sweet. If she hadn't been his mother Amelia might have been jealous.

"No really, we—"

"Please, Calvin," insisted Mrs. Baines, "you and your friend sit down and have something to eat."

Marty looked at Amelia. She sighed.

"What harm can it do?" She whispered. "We've probably already messed things up. Dinner isn't going to make or break anything. Plus I'm starving," Amelia's stomach growled on cue.

Lorraine's face lit up when they took their place at the already overcrowded table. Somehow, Marty had been put in between the two of them. Marty looked as if he had just taken a very large swallow of sour milk.

"So, Calvin, how long have you been in port?" Mrs. Baines asked.

"Port?" Marty's forehead wrinkled.

"We figured you were a sailor, that's why you wear that life preserver."

"Eh, Coastguard, actually," he said.

"And you dear?" Mrs. Baines smiled kindly at Amelia, "what is it that you…um…do? I've never seen clothes like that before."

"I, eh, I'm an aerobics instructor?" Amelia ventured.

"I'm sorry, dear?"

"It's a new type of exercise," Amelia said slowly, "not many people have heard of it…yet."

"Oh," Mrs. Baines said. Clearly confused, she turned to her husband and started up a conversation.

"Aerobics instructor?" Marty muttered under his breath.

"Coast guard?"

"At least they knew what mine was."

"Well excuse me for—"

"Meatloaf?" Lorraine cut her off and shoved a plate under Marty's nose.

"Yeah, great, thanks," he took the food from her, doing his best of avoid eye contact.

Lorraine went back to eating; conveniently forgetting that Amelia was present.

"Lorraine!" he mother chastised, "Where on earth are your manners?"

"Sorry, Mother," Lorraine mumbled. She slapped a piece of meatloaf and a glob of mashed potatoes on Amelia's plate before shoving it at her.

While they ate, Marty got directions to Riverside Drive from his future grandfather. Lorraine ogled him the entire time. Marty was leaning so far away from her he was practically in Amelia's lap. Every now and again Lorraine would brush her leg up against his. Finally, Marty had had enough. He stood up and declared that he and Amelia had to be going.

"It's, eh, getting kinda late. Sorry to eat and run but…" He grabbed Amelia's forearm and pulled her away from the table.

The Baines watched them go with confused expressions. Had they offended him? Lorraine sulked into her mashed potatoes.

When they were out of ear shot, Marty said, "Remind me to ask your dad if he has something that erases your memory. This is not exactly something I want to carry around, ya know?"


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: yeah, I own Amelia and the plot...that's it...enjoy!!

READ AND REVIEW!!! LOVE YOU GUYS THAT DO!!!

1955—Brown Mansion

Riverside Drive, which turned out to be the 1955 version of Marty and Amelia's John F Kennedy Drive, was on the east end of town. It would take them about twenty minutes to walk there from the Baines house. That is, if they didn't get lost in the process.

"You sure you'll be ok?" Marty asked when they had turned off of Lorraine's street.

"I'll be fine, Marty," Amelia insisted, although she knew it was a lie. The lump in her throat had already started to form, making it hard for her to swallow. The moment she saw her father she would go to pieces.

Marty made a movement as if to take her hand again but thought better of it. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and kicked a rock along. The feeling was back, the one that told him to protect her, that it was his job. It was such an odd, nagging feeling. It made Marty uncomfortable. It was like an itch, the more he put off scratching it the worse it became. He wanted to make it stop, to claw at it until it was satisfied. He realized with disgust that it was the relief he was really after, the euphoric high he would get from pacifying his desires, not the disappearance of the feeling altogether. He wanted a treatment not a cure.

He looked at Amelia walking beside him. How had he gone so long without noticing how beautiful she was? Her brown hair had touches of gold and red he'd never seen before. He discovered her eyes, which he'd always just considered to be green, were jade with minute chocolate flecks. The skin that wasn't hidden underneath her sweater looked smooth and supple, dangerously alluring. He was just wondering what she would look like without the sweater when his conscience sucker punched him.

_JENNIFER, _his brain screamed, _JENNIFER, JENNIFER, JENNIFER! _

Sure, he loved her now, but would he still feel the same way about Jennifer when he got home? How could she possibly know what he was going through? How could she understand the unbearable pain he had felt when Doc got shot up? Or when Amelia had collapsed in his chest and sobbed like an infant? How could she comprehend the strength it had taken him not to weep with her, to be her rock? Not to mention the whole "stuck in 1955 with a broken DeLorean" thing. Jennifer didn't share any of that. Amelia did…

Marty concentrated on the sidewalk, ashamed of himself.

Amelia had noticed him staring at her. Her heart had automatically sped up before she forced it to quiet itself. After a brief lapse of judgment in Lorraine's bedroom (she really shouldn't have hugged him like that) she was back on the plan of forgetting her romantic feelings for Marty. Unfortunately, that was starting to prove difficult. Especially when he looked at her like that…with his eyes all soft and out of focus…and that irritatingly adorable smirk on his face. It was almost too much for her to handle.

For the first time in her life Amelia wished that Marty would talk about Jennifer. Really _gush _about her. At least then she might stand a chance of getting over him. She would be able to file him away somewhere in the back of her brain and move on with her life. But here, with him looking at her like she was…well…beautiful, she didn't stand a snowballs chance in hell of tossing Marty into the recycle bin. She wondered how long Jennifer would hate her if her willpower faltered.

"Here's Riverside Drive," Marty said, finally taking his eyes off the sidewalk. The two of them turned down the long darkened street.

Neither of them needed help identifying Brown Mansion as it was clearly the largest and most ornate house on the block. Two stories tall but impressively wide, Brown Mansion stood on its own acre of land. It was brick with a long winding driveway, large covered porch, and a beautifully landscaped lawn. Amelia felt a twinge of irritation upon seeing the beautifully elaborate house. Her father had squandered away his inheritance in the pursuit of science and, consequentially, she had been living in a two bedroom ranch for the past fifteen years. Not exactly the best accommodations. At least not after seeing what she _could _have been living in.

Marty led the way up the drive and to the porch. He knocked on the door and waited. Amelia took several deep breaths and stood next to him. Marty looked at her and offered a sad half smile. Amelia didn't return it.

The door cracked open and a young Emmett Brown poked his head out. Amelia caught her breath. He had shorter hair and fewer wrinkles but it was definitely him. The lump in her throat tightened dangerously. She reached for Marty's hand without thinking and he squeezed it gently, his own breath catching at the back of his throat.

Suddenly, Amelia became very aware of him. Aware of the fact that he, Marty, had loved her father just as much as she had. Emmett had been a second father to Marty, a best friend, a partner in crime (Well, not a 'partner' per say…more like an accessory). Before that minute, Amelia had thought her grief to be a solitary thing. How could she be so selfish with Marty suffering right next to her?

"Get in here but don't say anything!" her father whispered frantically, pulling Amelia out of her head and both of them into his foyer.

Emmett was wearing a large triangular metal hat. He licked a suction cup and stuck it on Marty's forehead. Marty looked up at the thing, then at Emmett. He seemed to be deciding which one of them looked more stupid.

"Look, Doc—"

"Not a word, not a word!" Emmett said quickly. "I'm going to read your thoughts."

Marty raised his eyebrows.

"You've come from…a great distance."

"Yeah, Doc, that's what we—" Emmett waved his hands to silence Marty.

"Not a word now!" Emmett looked like he was concentrating very hard. He pressed his hands against the metal triangle and closed his eyes. Amelia suppressed a sudden desire to giggle. "You want me to buy a subscription for the coastguard youth auxiliary!"

Marty yanked the suction cup off of his forehead. It released with a loud smack.

"Doc, we're from the future. We came here in a time machine that _you invented_. Now we need your help to get back to the year 1985," Marty pronounced the year slowly.

Emmett smiled.

"My god, do you know what this means?" he looked at Amelia and Marty expectantly, "It means that this damn thing doesn't work!" Emmett ripped the triangle off of his head. Amelia groaned.

"Da— Doc, please!" she faltered, "You're the only one who can help us! We need to get back to our own time!"

"Own time?" Emmett raised an eyebrow. Amelia noticed there was a bandage over it.

"The future, Doc, we're from the future!" Marty said.

"Uh huh," Emmett looked at them skeptically. He began ushering them towards the door, "Well, I thank you for helping me with my experiment but I'm afraid I do not have time to—"

"Doc, please, you have to help us?" Marty wiggled out of his hold.

"And why do I have to do that, future boy?" Emmett asked sarcastically.

"Because you're the reason why we're here! You invented the damn time machine, Doc!"

"I have invented no such thing!" Emmett disagreed, pushing them out the door again.

"Yes you have!" Amelia blurted. The bandage on his forehead had triggered a memory of hers, a story that her father had told her a few months back. She had taken it as useless information then. How ironic. "Well, sort of. That bandage, you got it when you fell off your toilet right?"

"How did you know that?" Emmett asked, pausing in his attempts to shove them out of his house.

"You told me," Amelia said, relieved that he was willing to listen now. "You said you were hanging a clock in your bathroom, slipped off your toilet, and hit your head. Then, when you woke up, you had a vision of the flux capacitor. That's what makes time travel possible! That's how we got here!"

"Great Scott," Emmett muttered. "So it's true?"

"Yeah, Doc," Marty said, taking a step forward, "heavy ain't it?"

"Well, where's the vehicle now? Outside?" Marty and Amelia looked at each other. Emmett frowned. "What's the matter?"

"Ya see Doc," Marty started, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit, "its…eh…it's not starting. It's dead."

"Well where is it?" Emmett demanded, already grabbing his hat and coat.

"2 miles outta town behind a billboard," Marty said.

"Alright, we'll just have to go get it."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: yeah, I own Amelia and the plot...that's it...enjoy!!

READ AND REVIEW!!! LOVE YOU GUYS THAT DO!!!

1955—Brown Mansion Again

Emmett had towed the DeLorean back to Brown Mansion under the cover of darkness. It was now sitting under a tarp in his workshop awaiting the necessary repairs. The only problem was the 1955 Emmett Brown wasn't as familiar with time traveling luxury cars as his 1985 counterpart.

"Even if I knew how this thing worked," Emmett said, fiddling with the keypad, "I wouldn't know where to begin."

"But you invented it!" Amelia protested.

"Not yet," he reminded her, "this thing won't be completed for another thirty years. The technology employed here surpasses anything we have right now. Without the proper direction I'm afraid I'm completely useless in repairing it."

The effect of Emmett's words sunk in, weighing heavily upon them. Amelia slouched against a filing cabinet and pouted. Neither of them had expected this bump in the road, they had just assumed that Emmett would know exactly what to do like he always did. Marty paced back and forth next to the DeLorean. _If he just had some sort of instruction manual or something, _he thought.

"The video tape!" He exclaimed suddenly, making them all jump and Emmett bump his head.

"Huh?" Amelia asked.

"The tape he had me make at Twin Pines Mall! He could watch it. It'll tell him all about time travel!"

"Marty, you're a genius!"

Amelia grabbed the video camera out of the front seat and handed it to him. He pushed his way to a small television set Emmett had in the corner of his workshop. After a few minutes of messing around with some wires, Marty got a picture to appear on the screen. It was the 1985 Emmett standing in front of the DeLorean.

"Great Scott," Emmett whispered, leaning his face close to the screen, "I'm old!"

They watched the Emmett on the television explain all about time travel and how the DeLorean worked. 1955 Emmett sat in front of the screen with a pad of paper and a pencil, feverishly taking notes.

"Wait, what did I say?" Emmett asked Marty.

Marty rewound the tape and played the scene over again. Amelia recognized it as the moment just after she went into shock.

_"No, this sucker's electrical,"_ the Emmett on the television said, _"but I needed plutonium to generate the 1.21 gigawatts of power for the flux capa—"_

"1.21 GIGAWATTS!" Emmett screamed, drowning out the TV. "1.21 GIGAWATTS!" He got up and floundered around his workshop, tripping his way to the door, "GREAT SCOTT!"

Marty and Amelia exchanged surprised glances and ran after him.

"What the hell is a gigawatt?" Marty yelled.

"How could I have been so careless? Harnessing that kind of power!" Emmett moaned when they had caught up to him. He shuffled into the sitting room and sunk into an armchair, covering his face with his hands.

"Doc, relax, all we need is some plutonium," Marty laughed, shrugging out of his vest and jacket and tossing them onto an ottoman. He collapsed on the couch. Emmett gaped at him.

"I'm sure that in 1985 you can pick that up at any corner drugstore, Marty, but in 1955 plutonium is a little harder to come by!" he said.

"What'dya mean, Doc?" Marty leaned forward, his voice on edge.

"I mean that until we come across a bushel of abandoned plutonium, which incidentally is not very likely, you two are stuck here indefinitely."

"Indefinitely?" Amelia shook her head, "No, Doc, we can't stay here. We don't belong. Look at us for heaven's sake!"

"Doc, there's gotta be some way, some other way we can get the flux capacitor to start… fluxing," Marty insisted.

"The only thing that can generate 1.21 gigawatts of electricity is a lightning bolt," Emmett explained with a heavy sigh, "unfortunately you never know where or when one is going to strike."

Amelia made a soft sound of despair and bit her lip.

"Shit," Marty exclaimed under his breath. He aimed a kick at the ottoman, knocking it back a few inches. The force of his kick loosened the contents of one of his pockets. A folded piece of paper and some loose change spilled onto the floor.

Amelia scooped it up and handed it back to him.

"Here," she muttered as she sat down on the sofa.

Marty pocketed the change. He considered the note for a minute, frowning in confusion. Jennifer hadn't passed him any notes lately. Not since freshman year, actually. Marty unfolded the piece of paper. No sooner had he scanned the top of the page did his eyes widen with disbelief.

"This is it! Look, look at this!" He shoved the paper at Amelia.

"I don't believe it," Amelia said breathlessly, scanning the page, "Marty, how did you get this?"

Marty thought for a moment.

"There were a group of people protesting outside the courthouse the other day. One of them shoved it at us when I was walking Jennifer home. She wouldn't leave us alone so I took her dumb flyer and gave her a quarter. Guess I forgot I had it."

"I don't even believe it!" Amelia said again with a laugh. Marty chuckled back, relieved to see her smiling at something.

"Would anyone mind filling me in?" Emmett interjected, irritated about being left out.

"We found our lightning, Doc!" Marty handed Emmett the paper.

It was a flyer with a picture of the courthouse on it. At the top were the words "Help Us Save The Clock Tower!" The Hill Valley Historical Society was fighting to keep the clock tower intact, calling it a landmark in Hill Valley history. The flyer went on to describe, in detail, exactly what had happened the night the clock went dead. Apparently, a lightning bolt had struck it and caused the clock to stop working at precisely 10:04 pm on Saturday, November 12th.

"Marty, this is fantastic!" Emmett said, getting to his feet in his excitement. "This gives the precise location and time of the lightning strike! If there was some way we could harness that energy and channel it directly into the flux capacitor I'm sure it would give you two the jolt you needed to get back to 1985! Great Scott, look at the time!" Emmett yelled, looking at his wrist, "I've got get working, we only have a week!"

"That's great, Doc, we can stay in 1955 for a week. We can hang out, you can show us around—"

"Show you around?" Emmett interrupted, "Absolutely not, by no means will I allow you two to set one foot off of this property. Your interaction with people from this time could have serious repercussions in the future. You might endanger your own existence!"

"Told you so," Amelia muttered to Marty.

"It's no big deal, Aims, really," Marty said defensively.

"What happened?" Emmett demanded.

"Marty saved George, his father, from getting hit by a car driven by Mr. Baines, his grandfather. Now Lorraine, his mother, is in love with him and not George, his father," Amelia summed up.

"Well when you say it like that it just sounds awful," Marty grumbled. Amelia shrugged.

"Marty, this _is_ awful!" Emmett cried. "Do you realize you might have prevented your parents from ever meeting? You might never be born! First thing in the morning, we're going to Hill Valley high school to set your parents up. And don't go screwing with the past again!"

"Ok, ok. Doc, it's gonna be fine. We'll fix them up and everything will be great."

Emmett glared for a minute and then shook it off.

"I've got to get to work on the DeLorean," he said. "You two can sleep here tonight. I'd offer you rooms but unfortunately I had to sell all of the furniture upstairs to fund my experiments. There are blankets and pillows in the hall closet." He turned to leave the room. "Oh, and my housekeeper will probably stop in sometime in the morning. Don't mind her, perfectly lovely girl, quiet as a mouse. Remember, bright and early!" Then he was gone, disappearing into his workshop.

Marty looked at Amelia and smiled.

"How 'bout that. Close call, huh?"

"Yeah," she smirked, leaning her head against the back of the sofa. She hadn't realized how tired she was, it was almost 1:30.

"How do you feel?" He searched her face. She knew what he was talking about. Amelia blushed and looked at her hands.

"It's hard, but I couldn't cry in front of him."

"No, I suppose not," he said.

"How about you? I should have asked before but I didn't think of it," she apologized.

"It's alright. I'm…alright." Amelia was surprised to see Marty's eyes water a little.

"Oh, Marty," she whispered, stroking his cheek with her palm.

"No, it's fine. I'm just gonna miss him…when we have to go back."

"Me too."

Marty composed himself and wiped the un-fallen tears out of his eyes. Amelia watched him with concern. He was trying to be so strong but Amelia could see pain written all over his face. It was killing her to see him so broken up when there was nothing she could do to silence the hurt. A hurt that she felt too, a hurt they shared.

"How about those blankets?" Marty asked when he was sure his voice wouldn't shake.

"Sure," she said. Marty squeezed her hand before he got up.

He brought back two pillows and two blankets. Marty handed a set to Amelia and then began making a bed for himself on the floor next to the couch. Amelia kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her back. She sank into the couch, it felt amazing. Amelia curled on her side and peered down at Marty on the floor. He had his hands behind his head and was staring at the ceiling.

"Comfy?" he asked, his pride had erased the sadness from his voice.

"Yes, thanks. You?"

"Just like when I was a boy scout," he said nonchalantly.

"Well, looks like we've got a week of camping. That should be long enough to earn some badges, don't you think?"

Marty chuckled and fell silent. Amelia watched him; he looked like he was struggling with himself. Marty took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"What were you thinking when Doc told us we might be stuck here forever?" he asked. The question took Amelia back. She blinked.

"I was thinking about having to lose him again," she whispered. "Once was enough. I'd rather go where it's already over than have to see it again. What were you thinking?"

Marty didn't open his eyes. He took another long deep breath as if what he was about to say took an enormous amount of effort.

"I was mad because I miss home and everything, but…well…I wouldn't have minded staying." _Not if it was with you, _he added in his head.

"What about Jennifer?" Amelia asked.

Marty didn't answer.

"Marty?"  
"Goodnight, Aims," he whispered.

"Goodnight, Marty," she replied.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own Amelia, Maggie, and my own endearing plot. That's ALL! Enjoy!

READ AND REVIEW! : )

1955—Brown Mansion, The Next Day

Amelia awoke the next morning to sunlight pouring in through the windows. The rays hit her across the face and she had to squint as her eyes adjusted to its abrasiveness. Judging by the light that filtered in through her eyelids it was still very early, maybe seven or eight in the morning. She stretched and curled the blankets tighter around her. She wasn't ready for morning. It hadn't been night long enough, not by a long shot. Her body ached from head to toe and the couch was so comfortable that moving was just not an option. Amelia found a cool spot on her pillow and drifted back off to sleep.

Marty watched her shift in her sleep and felt a twinge of jealousy. The couch looked a lot more comfortable than Emmett's hardwood floors. He punched his pillow and attempted to find a better spot.

Marty had been up for hours. The floor had not been particularly kind to his throbbing muscles and he found himself feeling worse rather than better. He had slept in a sporadic off-and-on pattern until around three and he felt the heaviness of exhaustion starting to take effect. Sleep however was no longer an option. The sun was up and Emmett would want them to get a move on setting up George and Lorraine. He listened carefully for sounds of movement upstairs but heard nothing. At least he would get a few more minutes of attempted rest.

Marty folded his arms under his head and decided to rehash the argument he had been having with himself all night. This is what he knew for certain. Jennifer was his girlfriend and she was madly in love with him. She was safe, reliable, and comfortable. He knew every one of her likes and dislikes, turn-ons and turn-offs. With Jennifer everything fit, everything was exactly how it should be, and everything was incredibly boring. They did the same thing every time they were together; watch TV, grab something to eat, watch TV, make out for a while, watch TV… Marty wanted more than that. Jennifer was great and all but he needed the whole package. He needed a girl_friend_ not just a girl. He needed Amelia. She understood him in ways that Jennifer would never be able to. Marty felt terrible pushing Jennifer to the side but he had to do it. It wasn't fair to string her along when he had no intentions of going any farther. When they got back to 1985 he would have to break up with her.

Amelia mumbled something in her sleep and he looked at her. Her hair was a mess and her eyeliner had smudged terribly. She was beautiful. He was just reaching up to push a wisp of hair out of her face when he heard someone opening the front door. He sat up curiously and tried to peer around the sitting room's door frame.

A woman in a bright red overcoat turned the corner. Her golden brown hair was covered by a black scarf and she wore cat-eye sunglasses. Marty thought she looked like a _Leave It To Beaver _extra. Under each arm she carried two packages which, by the way she was staggering in her three inch heels, Marty surmised to be heavy. She took a surprised step backwards when she saw Marty staring at her and Amelia sprawled out on the couch but recovered quickly.

"Dr. Brown didn't say anything about having guests," she whispered. One of her packages started to slip and she caught it with her knee.

Marty pushed himself off the floor and went to help her.

"Here, let me take some."

The woman piled three of her packages into his arms.

"Thank you," she said with a bright smile. "Just follow me into the kitchen."

Emmett's kitchen was fairly large in size and looked as if it had been recently remodeled to accommodate modern conveniences. Tile toped counters ran along the left side of the room and the back wall. The appliances were state of the art, at least for the 50's, and the floor was black and white linoleum. Opposite from the counters was a square table and four chairs. Marty set down the packages on top of it.

"Thanks," she said again, setting her load down on the counter. "I'm Maggie Johnston, by the way, Emmett's housekeeper." She extended her hand, Marty shook it.

"Marty Mcfly, I'm a friend of the Doc's."

"Nice to meet you, Marty," Maggie smiled, "you and your friend must be the reason Dr. Brown wanted me to bring clothes this morning."

"Huh?" Marty asked, sitting down at the table.

Maggie laughed to herself and started unbuttoning her coat.

"Dr. Brown called me last night, or should I say this morning, and told me to pick up clothes 'suitable for both genders'. I've learned to not ask questions." She draped her coat over the back of a chair, untied her scarf, and took off her sunglasses. Marty blinked in surprise, Amelia's eyes were staring back at him.

"How long have you been working for Doc?" Marty asked, recovering himself.

"Oh, a few years," she said as she ripped open the first package. "He's a great man."

Maggie smiled to herself and started to put away groceries. Marty watched her closely. Her hair, her eyes, the way she moved, it was all so familiar. He knew it had to be her; it had to be Amelia's mother. There was no other explanation for the undeniable similarities between them. _This is heavy, _Marty thought.

"Are you hungry?" Maggie asked, ripping open the package full of clothes.

"What?" Marty's head snapped up, "Oh, yeah, a bit."

"Here, go put these on and wake up your friend—"

"Her name's Amelia," Marty interjected.

"Go tell Amelia," Maggie continued with a smile, "to wake up. Take these to her as well."

Maggie handed him a pile of clothes.

"Bacon and eggs sound good?" she asked.

"Yeah, sounds great, thanks."

Marty left her in the kitchen to get breakfast started. He walked back into the living room. Amelia was still fast asleep on the sofa. Marty sighed, what was he going to do? Should he tell Amelia that her mother was in the other room? From what he knew, her mother had died when she was four or five. Amelia had barely known her. Would she even recognize Maggie when she saw her? Marty ran a hand through his hair. It was now or never.

"Aims," he whispered, shaking her shoulder lightly, "Aims, wake up, it's morning."

"I know," Amelia mumbled, pulling the blanket over her face, "that's why I'm still sleeping. Wake me at noon."

"Aims, come on, we've gotta go to school."

"What?" Amelia yanked the covers down and blinked at him.

"My parents," he reminded.

"Oh…yeah."

"Here, you can put these on," He handed her a bundle of clothes. "Doc's housekeeper got them for us. Aims…there's something I have to tell you about her." Marty cleared his throat and sat on the edge of the couch.

"What's the matter, Marty?" Amelia sat up. She didn't like the look on his face. It was the same one he wore when he told her they would have to find her father.

"Her name is Maggie…Maggie Johnston."

Amelia's eyes went wide.

"Marty, that's my mother's name," she breathed.

"Yeah, I know."

"Are you telling me that…that my mother is _here?_" Marty nodded. "Jesus Christ."

"Are you alright?" He asked carefully.

"No…yeah…I mean," a sudden smile spread across her face, "Marty! This is fantastic!"

Marty blinked in disbelief. This was certainly not the reaction he had expected.

"Huh?"

"Don't you see? I finally get to talk to her, to see what she was like before the cancer took her over! I've been wishing for this my entire life!" Tears welled in her eyes. She wiped them away, beaming at him.

"Oh, well, great!" He said, smiling back. "She's making breakfast right now."

Amelia pulled back the blankets and grabbed her stack of clothes.

"Come on, let's get dressed," she said, a light in her eyes Marty had never seen before. "I can't believe this!"

They split up and found separate bathrooms to change in. Marty's pile contained an undershirt, a black and white striped bowling shirt, a tight fitting pair of jeans, and grease to style his hair. He put them on and examined himself in the mirror. _Not bad, _he thought. He ran a comb through his hair one more time before turning off the light and returning to the sitting room.

Amelia was cleaning up their mess. Marty's heart skipped a beat when he saw her. Her hair was down, curling becomingly at her shoulders. She was wearing a white dress with tiny periwinkle polka-dots, bobby socks, and mary-janes. For a brief second, Marty thought about what it would be like to kiss her collar bone, which was left uncovered by her dresses neckline. Then Amelia caught him staring and he looked away.

"Nice dress," he said, blushing for what he thought had to be the first time in his life.

"Thank you," Amelia smiled, noticing the color rushing to his cheeks. "I like your shirt."

"Lets…eh…get some breakfast," Marty said, awkwardly.

Maggie had already set out three places for them. On the table there was orange juice, coffee, a plate of toast, strawberry jam, bacon, a pile of eggs, and a basket of cinnamon rolls. Marty and Amelia's stomachs growled in anticipation, it had been hours since they had eaten. They took seats next to each other at the table. Marty began piling food onto his plate. Amelia was turned around in her seat watching Maggie scrubbing the pans she had used.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Amelia asked, an edge of disappointment to her voice. Maggie turned around.

"You must be Amelia," she said, grinning. "No, I've already had my breakfast this morning. Don't let that stop you though, please eat." She went back to scrubbing. Amelia pouted and filled her plate with food.

They were halfway through their breakfast when Emmett shuffled into the kitchen in his bathrobe and slippers. He had large circles under his eyes and he swayed slightly when he walked. He had been up all night no doubt.

"Good morning, everyone," he muttered. He took a seat and filled a cup with black coffee.

"Good morning, Dr. Brown," Maggie beamed at him. She put down her dishes and went to his side. Amelia watched as Maggie filled Emmett's plate, even buttered his toast. She felt her heart swell as she watched the picture of what he family should have looked like.

"Aims, we've gotta get going," Marty said, looking at his watch, "We'll be late for first period." They shoved a few more bites of food into their mouths before standing.

As they were headed out the door Maggie called to them.

"Have a good day you two!"  
"Thanks, Mo—Maggie!" Amelia called. She beamed the entire way to school.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own Amelia and my plot! Nothing more, nothing less...Enjoy

READ AND REVIEW!!! : )

1955—Hill Valley High School

"Where's your dad?" Amelia whispered to Marty.

They were standing in one of Hill Valley High's many hallways, leaning against a wall and doing their best to look casual. Dozens of kids were swarming around them, gossiping, flirting, and bullying each other. They didn't seem to be paying any attention to what Marty and Amelia were doing. They were too invested in their own overly dramatic lives to acknowledge newcomers beyond a polite nod or brief eye contact. Marty and Amelia didn't mind though, it was less dangerous to be ignored.

"I don't know," he muttered back, searching the faces of people who passed him. "And I haven't seen my mom either."

"Great, we come on a day when they both called in sick," Amelia grumbled.

"Come on, let's walk." Marty grabbed her hand.

"Young man!" Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Marty wheeled around and came face to face with a younger, although still hairless, Strickland. "That will be quite enough of that!"

"What?" Marty gaped at him. _Jesus, was there a time you weren't around…or had hair?_

"Release the young lady," he ordered, glaring at both of them.

"Oh, sorry…" Marty dropped Amelia's hand.

Strickland harrumphed something that sounded like "slacker" and stalked away to harass another unexacting student. Amelia giggled next him.

"Yeah, hilarious," Marty muttered, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets.

"Oh come on," Amelia shoved him playfully. Marty grinned in spite of himself.

They turned down the science hallway grateful that the schools layout was the same in 1955 as it was in 1985. Kids were huddled around their lockers chatting nosily. Some were running to class. It would have seemed like any other day at high school had it not been for the fact that they needed to find Marty's parents before he disappeared into oblivion.

Marty scanned the crowd. There was a commotion at one end of the hallway that appeared to be working its way down to them. He craned his neck to see over the other, taller, people. A group of girls separated and they had a clear view of the hallway. A mob of boys was following George. Every now and then one would aim a kick at his backside and knock in forward a few feet. The mob would erupt in laughter as George stooped to pick up his books and papers. Then, after George had stood up and brushed himself off, the cycle would repeat.

"Maybe you're adopted," Amelia suggested as George got kicked ever closer to where they were standing.

One of the boys aimed a particularly powerful kick at George and he lurched forward onto the ground five feet from where Amelia and Marty stood. His books flew everywhere. Having gotten their fill of torture for the afternoon, the band of guys split up, leaving George to collect his things in disgrace.

"Stay here," Marty said to Amelia, "we don't need my dad getting the hotts for you too."

Marty helped George gather his things and pulled him to his feet. George looked apprehensive but accepted the help. The spoke for a few minutes, Marty in clear persuasive mode, and George nodded a few times but didn't look all too thrilled about whatever Marty was suggesting. Then Marty held up a finger and rushed over to Amelia. George waited for him.

"Ok, I'm gonna go to class with George and try to give him a pep talk. You find Lorraine. Hang around her for a while, go to class or something. Then, come find me during the next passing period and tell me where her locker is."

"Marty, that plan would be perfect if you mother didn't hate me," Amelia reminded him.

"You don't have to talk to her or anything, just keep her in your sights. It was hard enough finding Skippy over there," he jerked his head towards George.

"Alright, fine. Where are you going to be?"

"Biology lab."

"See you later." Amelia said. Marty went back to George and the two of them disappeared in the sea of teenagers.

Amelia sighed and crossed her arms. Now what? Stand here and wait for Lorraine to turn the corner? No sooner had she thought this than did she see a familiar head bobbing in and out of view a few feet away from her. Amelia sidled forward a couple feet to get a better view of Lorraine. She was surrounded by a clique of girls and seemed to be the center of attention. Amelia followed them, making sure to keep in ear shot.

"His name's Calvin," Lorraine was saying to her admirers. "My daddy almost killed him with the car. They brought him inside and laid him in_ my_ bed. I nursed him back to health all by myself. I think he's going to ask me to the Enchantment Under the Sea dance this Saturday." The girls giggled around her. Lorraine looked rather smug considering all the lies she was telling.

"Where is he now, Lorraine?" someone asked.

"He's around," Lorraine smirked, "in fact, he came to visit me last night."

The girls gasped excitedly. Amelia snorted.

"What's so funny?" Lorraine demanded. She looked around at her friends trying to find who had made the offensive sound. Her eyes landed on Amelia and her she blushed, embarrassed at being caught in a lie. "Oh, it's you."  
"Hi, Lorraine," Amelia said politely.

Lorraine recovered herself. She smoothed the front of her dress and tossed her dark brown hair.

"Is Calvin here?" she asked smoothly.

"Somewhere," Amelia said. No point in lying, she'd see him soon enough.

"Tell him I say 'hi' won't you?" Then she turned on her heel and walked away, her friends close behind.

Amelia let her get a good ways ahead of her before following again. One conversation with Marty's future mom was enough, talk about PMS. She liked Mrs. Mcfly, but Lorraine Baines was another story all together. It was like they weren't even the same person. Amelia shuddered at the thought of something similar happening to her one day.

Lorraine's locker turned out to be just passed the girl's bathroom in the English hallway. Amelia watched her collect her books and then skip into the ladies room. A few minutes later, Lorraine exited the bathroom and crossed to the classroom opposite it. Amelia groaned, why did it have to be the American Literature class? She hated that class in 1985!

With an immense amount of effort, Amelia forced herself to walk the twelve feet to the classroom, pull open the door, and take a seat. It was going to be a very long day.

* * *

George Mcfly deserved every "kick me" sign that had ever been stuck to his back, Marty decided as he sat with his father in biology. For the past twenty minutes Marty had been trying to tell George how interested Lorraine was in him to no avail. George didn't even consider it. He had too much of Biff's homework to do.

"But, George," Marty insisted for the nineteenth time, "she really, really likes you."

"Marty, I'm sorry," George said as he labeled a paper skeleton, "but if I don't do Biff's homework he'll beat me up. Besides, I've never talked to a girl in that way before."

Marty rolled his eyes. His father was hopeless, completely hopeless. The man had apparently _never_ had a backbone.

"At least meet her, George, give the poor girl a shot."

"I don't know, Marty…"

"George, what's the worst thing that could happen?" Marty watched as George considered this.

"Are you sure she really wants to meet me?" George asked. Marty grinned.

"Positive."

"Fine," George sighed. "Then will you leave me alone?"

"Only for about another thirteen years, buddy," Marty mumbled

* * *

Amelia had all but sprinted out of American Lit. The teacher had called on her twice for answers she did not have, each time raising his eyebrows and making a little mark on a pad of paper. Lorraine would turn around in her seat and smirk at her every time this happened, and Amelia knew the marks couldn't be a good thing…if you were actually on the class roster…which she wasn't. Still, once the bell had rung she had bolted out of the door to save herself any more embarrassment. She was now waiting across the hall from the Biology lab door.

A few minutes later, Amelia saw Marty exit the lab and waved him over.

"Lorraine's locker is in the English Hallway, the one right next to the girl's bathroom."

"Great, thanks."

"What's the plan now?" She asked, eyeing George who was standing a few away.

"Well, I take Casanova over there to meet my mom and tah dah! I don't disappear."

"Just like that?" Amelia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure," Marty shrugged. "Why not?"

"Because I overheard your mom talking to her friends about you and apparently you left quite the impression, even more than we originally thought."

"What do you mean?" Marty asked, not sure he actually wanted to hear the answer.

"I mean she's telling people you visit her," Amelia said bluntly.

"Perfect," Marty said, making a face.

"Could be worse, at least she's not marrying you yet," Amelia quipped.

Marty sighed.

"I still have to take him over there," he said, shooting a withering glace at George. If Lorraine was still hung up on him, his dad didn't stand a chance.

"We'll you're going without me," Amelia said with finality, "I'll meet you at lunch, one encounter with Lorraine is enough for me."

"Alright, save us seats. I'll take George to meet her and join you in a bit," Marty said. He sounded like a man about to go up against a firing squad. Unless George magically grew a pair in the next ten minutes Marty could tell that he and Amelia would have to do some serious damage control.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own Amelia and my plot. Enjoy, you Back to the Future Fans!!

READ AND REVIEW!! :-D THANKS

1955—Hill Valley High Lunch Room

After Marty dragged George away to meet Lorraine, Amelia followed the exodus of teenagers to the lunch room. It was almost identical to the cafeteria she had left in 1985. The walls were the same ugly off-white color, the floors the same hideous brown. Even the set up of the cafeteria tables was just as she remembered it. All that was needed was a soda machine and it would be like she had never left her own time.

Amelia bought a chocolate milk and settled herself as far back in the cafeteria as possible. She watched as the other kids took their seats, eyeing her curiously, clearly labeling her as "the new girl". However, no one came over to say hello or strike up polite conversation and Amelia was relieved. Another opportunity to screw up the universe was not what she needed at the moment. Judging by the look on Marty's face before he and George had left and what she had heard of Lorraine's conversation, they had enough work on their hands. Amelia busied herself with her milk and waited for Marty.

Lorraine and her group of friends entered the cafeteria first. She sat a few tables ahead of Amelia, facing her way. Their eyes met, Amelia offered a small smile and Lorraine looked away, still embarrassed by their last encounter. She felt bad for Lorraine. Amelia knew what it was like to chase somebody you couldn't have, to watch him with another girl and wish like crazy it were you. She didn't blame Lorraine for disliking her; she felt the same burning jealousy towards Jennifer. Amelia just didn't show it in the same way Lorraine did.

Amelia looked up from Lorraine's table just in time to see Marty and George come into the cafeteria. Marty spotted her and motioned for George to follow him. They made their way to the back of the lunch room, passing Lorraine on the way. She stole a quick glance at Marty but seemed to take no notice of George whatsoever. George, for his part, put up his hand to wave, but when he saw she wasn't looking he quickly ran it through his hair. _Not a good sign, _Amelia thought as Marty sank into the chair next to her. George sat opposite them and buried himself in a notebook.

"Are you sure this is ok? Should he sit with me?" Amelia muttered.

"Don't worry, nothing will happen," Marty whispered back.

"How can you know for sure?"

"He's not exactly…as confident as my mom is." Marty looked at George with something like pity. Amelia immediately understood. George had never been with a girl.

"How bad did it go?" Amelia asked, still in a subdued voice. George didn't seem to be paying any attention to them. His nose was almost touching his notebook as he scrawled across the page.

"She didn't even look at him," Marty groaned quietly, "talked to me the whole time! And he…he didn't stick up for himself, didn't put himself out there. Lorraine still doesn't know he exists. I wish he'd just march up to her and make her notice him."

"What about that pep talk you were supposed to give him?" Amelia asked.

"Guess it didn't work."

They sat in silence for a while. Amelia finished her milk. Marty took out a quarter and spun it on the table top. George continued to scribble away in his notebook, now and then referencing a pad of paper or one of his books. His face was set in severe concentration. Marty stopped playing with his quarter and watched him.

"George, buddy, what are you doing?" Marty asked.

George's head jerked up and then fell again sheepishly.

"Writing stories…science fiction stories…about people coming down from other planets," he said into the table.

"Get outta town, I didn't know you did anything creative," Marty smiled. George looked up, surprised by the pleasant tone of Marty's voice. He smiled back at him.

"Yeah, well..."

"Can I read some?" Marty asked as he reached across the table. George recoiled.

"Oh no, I never let anyone read my stories," he said.

"Why not?"

"Well," George started, looking suddenly shy again, "what if they didn't like them? What if they told me I was no good? I don't think I could take that kind of a rejection, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah I know," Marty said quietly. George had successfully made him feel like a terrible person without even knowing it.

So his dad was a little socially awkward. So he kept to himself and did his damndest to avoid confrontations. So he allowed himself to be bullied by Biff and everybody else in school. So he couldn't talk to girls. He was still a person wasn't he? He still had feelings! And he definitely didn't deserve to be kicked down a crowded hallway and made a laughing stock of. Marty felt ashamed of himself for even thinking it, no matter how frustrated he had been. This was his dad, the man who would be there for every minor crisis of his life. He owed him more than that.

"So, George, about Lorraine," Amelia broke in, sensing Marty's preoccupation. "She really likes you. She told me to tell you that she wants you to ask her to the dance this Saturday."

"Look you guys," George said, setting down his pencil for the first time, "thanks a lot for trying to set me up with Lorraine and all, but I don't think it's gonna happen."

"Come on, George, all you gotta do is go ask her," Amelia encouraged.

"No I couldn't do that," he chuckled, picking up his pencil again. "Besides, I think she wants to go with someone else."  
"Who?" Marty asked.

"Biff," George said, jerking his head behind him. Marty looked up. Sure enough, there was Biff at Lorraine's table.

_So that's Biff, _Amelia thought as she watched him harassing Lorraine. He was a meaty guy, with a thick neck, crew cut, and a stupid expression on his face. Biff looked like the kind of guy that still laughed at his own farts. Amelia had known plenty of guys like him; only in 1985 they were called football players.

"Come on, you know you want it," they heard Biff say, "And you know you want me to give it to you."

He had Lorraine's wrist in a tight grip and she was struggling to free herself. Amelia felt uncomfortable.

"Somebody do something," she said.

In a flash, Marty had left their table and was yanking Biff up by the collar. As Biff reached his full height Marty recoiled and let go of his shirt. He was a good head taller and quite a bit wider than Marty.

"You lookin' for a fight, punk?" Biff sneered, shoving Marty. Marty didn't say anything. "I'm talkin' to you, butthead!" Biff pushed him again.

This time, Marty grabbed a fistful of Biff's shirt and they both pulled back as if to punch. Before they had a chance to swing, however, Strickland appeared. Biff hesitated and then gently lowered his raised fist.

"I'll let you off today 'cause you're new," he muttered to Marty as Strickland glared at them, "but I suggest you make like a tree and get outta here before I change my mind."

Marty straightened his shirt, shot one last glare in Biff's direction, and stalked back to where Amelia was sitting. He knew he would have regretted picking a fight with Biff after his eyes had swollen shut, but a part of Marty wished that Strickland hadn't interfered. Ten more seconds was all he would've needed to give him an attractive black eye. Marty wasn't normally a violent person, but laying into Biff would've been supremely satisfying after everything that had happened and made better by the fact that he rightly deserved it.

Amelia, on the other hand, breathed a sigh of relief when Strickland appeared. There was no doubt in her mind that had Marty and Biff started to fight, Biff would've won and Marty would've come out resembling ground beef. Strickland's sudden appearance sent a wave of relief through her system and allowed her lungs to regain function.

"That was close," she said to George as she relaxed into her chair. But he wasn't there. Amelia looked around but there was no sign of him. She had been so focused on Marty she hadn't heard him leave.

"Where'd he go?" Marty asked.

Amelia shrugged.

"Shit," he said under his breath. "Come on, let's go find him."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: You know what I own and what I don't by this time : )

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1955—Around and About Hill Valley

George managed to avoid them for the remainder of the afternoon. Look where they might, Marty and Amelia couldn't find him. It was like he had disappeared into thin air. Every classroom, every hallway, every bathroom stall and closet was completely George free. They searched for hours, splitting up and regrouping, then splitting up again. No luck. The confrontation with Biff in the lunchroom had forced George into total invisibility. Not that Marty could blame him. George probably figured that since Biff hadn't been able to clock Marty he was next on the list, and Marty had to agree. Biff would be out for blood regardless of whose it was.

The final bell of the day rang and the students of Hill Valley High were released from their academic prison. They flooded to their lockers and began packing up their books, anxious to get outside as quickly as they could. Marty and Amelia canvassed the hallways, quickly dismissing every face that wasn't George's and moving on to the next, but he remained allusive.

"Maybe he went home early," Amelia said as a large mass of teenagers pushed passed them, none of whom were George.

"Maybe," Marty agreed. Still he remained unmoving.

"Come on, Marty, he's not here," Amelia said, pulling on his arm. The hallways were almost deserted now, the remaining stragglers all of the female variety.

"Yeah, you're right. Come on, we'll look around town." They hurried down the hallway and out the double doors into the mid afternoon sunlight.

By this time the grounds were almost empty. A few kids were hanging around on the sidewalk, talking or sneaking a cigarette before their parents came to pick them up. There was a car or two still parked in the lot next to the building. Judging by their sporadic movements Amelia imagined they concealed couples that had nowhere else to make out this early in the day. One of them rocked violently and she looked away, shocked and embarrassed. Her previously conceived notion of the 50's looking like a rerun of _Leave It To Beaver _was quickly slipping away. Amelia was sad to see it go. Nothing could kill the magic of imagination quite like experience.

Marty walked swiftly down the sidewalk, head pivoting from side to side, still in search of George. He wasn't even particularly sure why he was so desperate to find him anymore. He had a week after all. One afternoon wouldn't be the deciding factor in whether or not he would exist. Still, without knowing exactly what George was up to, Marty felt panicky. Almost like an overprotective parent. He needed to know that Biff hadn't killed him yet, that George was still alive and, if not entirely willing, capable of giving it another shot with Lorraine. Not to mention the fact that Marty needed all the time he could get to boost George's confidence which, because of Lorraine's initial rejection, was probably at an all time low.

They turned down a residential street and suddenly, miraculously, there was George sauntering down the sidewalk ahead of them. Marty and Amelia looked at each other and broke into a run.

"George! George, buddy!" Marty called as they sprinted towards him.

George turned around. When he saw who it was he shook his head and backed away.

"Oh no," he said, holding out a hand defensively, "no, no! Just leave me alone, ok?"

"George, I've been lookin' all over for you," Marty panted. He and Amelia slowed to a stop in front of George, who looked like he would rather have been anywhere else at the moment. "Where've you been?"

"Just leave me alone, Marty," George said again, backing his way down the sidewalk.

"Leave you alone? George, I'm trying to help you, bud." Marty said.

"Thanks, but I don't want it." George turned off the sidewalk and started to walk across his front lawn.

"Don't want it?" Amelia rushed in front of him, blocking the way to his house. George looked longingly at the door and back at Amelia. "But, George, Lorraine really wants to go to the dance with you!"

"Look guys, thanks a bunch, really, but I'm just not ready to ask Lorraine out." He pushed passed Amelia and rushed up the front steps, afraid somebody would stop him again. "Besides, I would miss _Science Fiction Theatre._"

Then he disappeared into his house.

"He doesn't want to go to the dance with a beautiful girl because he'll miss a TV show?" Amelia asked, dumbfounded.

"Good, you heard it too," Marty said, equally as perplexed.

"I don't even believe that happened…"

"I'm learning to keep an open mind," Marty sighed.

"_Science Fiction Theatre_?" Amelia said as they started back down the sidewalk. "Of all the shows he coulda picked…"

"Well, he's got a thing for aliens," Marty shrugged. A second later Marty stopped dead in his tracks. A smile spread across his face. "Aims, I think I have an idea."

* * *

It was the noise that had yanked George out of an otherwise peaceful sleep, an earsplitting noise that lodged itself into the very center of his brain and corroded the walls of his skull. He sat bolt upright in bed and clamped his hands over his ears to make it stop. The action had the opposite effect and, if possible, the noise in his head grew louder. George felt his ears would bleed from such torture. He screamed; a muted sound. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it ceased. The silence was just as deafening.

George's eyes adjusted to the darkness of his room. There, at the foot of his bed, stood two shrouded figures. They were dressed in suits that covered them from head to toe. Their features were hidden behind tinted masks and George preferred it that way. He didn't wish to see what might lie beneath their hoods. George could hear them breathing, a labored, mechanical sound. He knew what they were immediately. But why where they here in Hill Valley?

"Wh—" George started to speak but a sudden screeching in his brain cut him off.

"Silence, earthling!" the alien commanded.

George obeyed and the noise stopped.

"I am Lord Vader from the planet Vulcan!" The alien to his right said in an obviously masculine voice.

"And I am E.T. the Extra Terrestrial!" The alien to his left squeaked in a high soprano. "We have come from far away galaxies to express our great displeasure with you, George Mcfly!"

"D-displeasure?" George stuttered.

"SILENCE!!!" The masculine alien shouted. George shrunk into his pillows. "YOU WILL NOT SPEAK!"

"There is an earthling," continued the other, "a female, who goes by the name of Lorraine Baines. You are to find this human and demand she accompany you to this weekend's rhythmic festival."

"If you should fail, George," the male growled, "we will return and vaporize your brain. Don't fail."

"B-but I—"

"ENOUGH. FIND THE EARTHLING LORRAINE!" The aliens began to close in around him and the noise screamed in his head again. George's vision blurred, his breathing quickened, the room around him began to spin.

And then he fainted.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own Amelia and Maggie and my darling little plot! Also, some of the lines I have taken directly from the BTTF script because of plot parallels and my desire for complete accuricy. Enjoy!

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1955—Brown Mansion

Five Days Until Lightning Strike

Marty jerked awake. Sun was pouring in through the sitting room windows and splashing against the wall opposite him. A muffled radio played somewhere. Above his head, he heard the drone of a vacuum cleaner as it was dragged across the carpet. He could hear no sounds coming from the kitchen. No banging pots and pans as Maggie bustled around frying up breakfast for them. Marty squinted at his watch. With a groan he discovered it was nearly eleven. Half a day's opportunity to get Lorraine and George together was already gone. He sighed and hoped that last night's visit had at least lit some kind of fire under his father. Maybe, with the threat of brain vaporization on the table, George would take the initiative himself…at least that's what he hoped.

Marty rubbed his eyes and searched for what had pulled him out of unconsciousness so abruptly. He discovered he was slumped on the couch in a half sitting half laying position, and draped across his chest was Amelia. He made a sudden surprised movement and Amelia frowned in her sleep, unhappy at being jostled. She curled an arm around his waist and nuzzled into his chest. Marty held very still, heart thrumming madly, not sure what to do and, more importantly, not sure where to put his hands. He threw an arm over the back of the couch and awkwardly set the other on the small of her back. Amelia leaned into his touch with a content sigh. Marty smiled and rubbed her back lightly. She was soft and warm to the touch.

A sudden _BANG _almost caused Marty to throw Amelia off of him. He listened cautiously, muscles tensed and ready for action. There was a series of "God damnits!" and a thick cloud of grey smoke rolled passed the sitting room door. The humming of the vacuum stopped and Maggie rushed down the stairs.

"What in heaven's name!" she choked as she hit the wall of smoke.

"Sorry, Miss Johnston, sorry!" Emmett called, waving his arms in an attempt to clear the air. "There seems to be a problem with the exhaust valve!"

Emmett continued to flap his arms and Maggie opened the front door. Gradually, the smoke was pulled out of the hallway and the air became transparent again. Unfortunately it left behind a noxious smell and soot stains on the carpets. Maggie sighed, clearly used to this type of thing.

"My deepest apologies, Miss Johnston," Emmett said, attempting to de-soot a mirror.

"It's alright, Dr. Brown, no harm done."

"I'll pay you extra ," Emmett decided with a nod.

"There's no need t—" Maggie protested.

"Nonsense, of course there's need. You're too good to me, Maggie," Emmett sighed before heading back into his workshop.

Maggie blushed scarlet and then disappeared up the stairs to gather her cleaning supplies.

Marty gently disentangled himself from Amelia, who was somehow still sleeping after all the commotion, and followed Emmett into his workshop. The DeLorean was uncovered and Emmett had clearly been tinkering with it. Parts were strewn here and there and the hood at the rear of the car was being propped open by piece of wood. Marty noticed that the camera was still hooked up to the television set and the frame was frozen. Emmett must have been studying it recently. He took at step closer and saw that Amelia was in the picture.

"Marty, good morning!" Emmett called, peeking out from behind a shelf. He came forward to see what Marty was staring at and saw the television screen. "I was just…looking for hints…"

He switched off the camera and Amelia vanished. Emmett didn't look at him and Marty understood. He had heard something on the tape, something that told him Amelia was his daughter.

"Doc, if you want to know who she is—"

"No," Emmett said quickly, "I've already heard too much on this blasted recording device! A man should never know too much about his own future!"

"So you already know she's your—"

"I don't want to hear it!" Emmett insisted, covering his ears.

"But Doc, she loves you! You're her whole world! When you got shot—"

"Marty, that's enough! Don't you understand the cataclysmic effect your words could have on my future? On her future? For God's sake, Marty, don't say another word!" Doc pressed his hands harder against his ears. Marty, with no place else to go, relented.

"Alright, Doc…whatever you say." A sudden jolt of panic shot through him. If he couldn't even tell Emmett about Amelia, how on earth were they going to warn him about the Libyans?

"Thank you," Emmett sighed. "Now come over here, I have something to show you. It's my plan for getting you and Amelia back home."

Emmett led him to a table constructed out of plywood and sawhorses. On top sat a replica of downtown Hill Valley made out of cereal boxes and soda bottles all painted white. Pencils and silver wire imitated telephone poles, and a watch face stood in for the clock tower. A little red wind up car sat at one end of the table and Marty assumed it simulated the DeLorean. Next to the table, a car battery and jumper cables were set up. Emmett took a place next it them and instructed Marty to stand by the car.

"Please excuse the crudity of this model," Emmett apologized, "I didn't have time to build it to scale or paint it."

"Doc, it's great," Marty chuckled, "really."

"Oh, thank you. Okay now, the plan. We run some industrial strength electrical cable from the top of the clock tower down to here," he indicated a point on the model, "spreading it over the street between two lamp posts. Meanwhile, we've out-fitted the vehicle with this big pole and hook which runs directly into the flux-capacitor.

"At the calculated moment, you and Amelia start off from down the street driving toward the cable accelerating to eighty-eight miles per hour. According to the flyer, at 10:04 pm lightning will strike the clock tower sending 1.21 gigawatts into the flux-capacitor, sending both of you back to 1985!" Emmett beamed and picked up the jumper cables. "Alright now, watch this. You wind up the car and release it, I'll simulate the lightening." Marty picked up the car and wound, Emmett clamped a cable onto the model clock tower and readied the other one above the car battery. "Ready, set, release!"

The car sped toward the wire and Emmett connected the other cable to the battery. A jolt of electricity shot through the wire just as the car's hook made contact with it. There was a flash and the toy car started on fire. It skidded across the table and onto the floor where it crashed into a pile of rags. The rags burst into flames and Emmett hurried to put it out with a fire extinguisher.

"You give me a lot of credit, Doc," Marty said, shaking his head. If he didn't get the DeLorean to make contact with the telephone line at exactly the right moment he and Amelia could be stuck in 1955 forever.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of all this, you just take care of your pop. By the way, how's that going? Did he ask her out?"

"Well, eh, yes and no," Marty said.

"What do you mean?" Emmett asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"He's got…confidence issues," Marty explained.

"Marty! What are you doing wasting the day around here for then?! Get out there and set them up!" Emmett exclaimed.

"Alright, Doc, cool your jets," Marty said, trying to calm him down. "We gave George a visit last night that should help move things along."

"I certainly hope so! You only have five more days!"

Marty suddenly felt sick. Five days? What had happened to having a week? Emmett was right, he had no more time to waste hanging around Brown Mansion. He and Amelia had to find George and get him to ask out Lorraine. Today.

Leaving Emmett to fiddle with the DeLorean, Marty hurried back into the sitting room. Amelia was just rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Unceremoniously, Marty told her to get dressed and meet him on the porch in ten minutes. Then he rushed into a bathroom, threw on some clothes, and waited on the steps for Amelia to appear. She came out a few minutes later looking groggy and irritated although still attractive in her light pink dress. Marty jumped off the steps and Amelia followed slowly behind.

"Can't we at least have breakfast?" Amelia whined as he took off at a brisk clip down the driveway.

"Its lunch now," Marty said, "and there's no time anyway, we have to find George. Come on, keep up."

"What time is it, anyway?" she asked, catching up to him.

Marty looked at his watch.

"One-ish. We'll try the school first, come on!" Marty broke into a run. Amelia groaned and followed suit.

"Why are we running?" She called.

Marty didn't answer. He only had five days left to fix the mess he had created or else he would cease to exist. To him, that was as good a reason as any to run.


	13. Chapter 13

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1955—Lou's Café

5 Days Until Lightning Strike

"Jesus, where does he go? It's like he's the _Invisible Man_ or something!" Marty complained as they passed the clock tower. George hadn't been at school or his house all afternoon and Marty and Amelia had given up looking for him. They were now strolling the sidewalks of downtown Hill Valley in the hopes of bumping into him, having decided that locating George was more a matter of coincidence than skill.

"I think we're trying too hard," Amelia said.

Marty _harrumphed _and looked at the ground. Every George-less minute that ticked by was one less he might have to exist. Talk about heavy.

"Come on, I'll buy you a soda," she offered, "I think I see a machine at the gas station."

They crossed the street to the Texaco. Amelia pulled out a few coins and dropped them into the Coke machine. A glass bottle dropped out and she handed it to Marty before getting one for herself. Marty made to twist off the top and almost sliced his hand on the sharp edges of the bottle cap. He tried again…no good. Amelia looked at him and shrugged, she didn't know what to do either. They stood there staring at each other, holding their bottles of coke and looking like two of the world's biggest idiots.

"Well there's gotta be a way," Marty mumbled, using his sleeve to cover the edges as he twisted again. "How the hell do you op—"

"Marty! Hey, Marty!"

Marty and Amelia looked up. George was hurdling across the street towards them. A car pulled out in front of him and honked, George ignored it. He looked like a man possessed the way he was running. He also looked like a man who was in desperate need of a shower.

"George!" Marty called, relief oozing from him, "we've been looking for you all day, where've you been? Are those the same clothes you had on yesterday, Buddy?"

"Marty, you're not going to believe this," George said, panting as he slowed to a stop in front of them. He grabbed Marty's shoulders, "You're not going to believe what happened!"

"Why weren't you in school today?" Marty asked, shrugging George off and wrestling with the bottle again. George took it from him and snapped the cap off with the Coke machine's bottle opener.

"I just woke up," he said, handing the soda back. Marty took it, looking embarrassed.

"Just woke up? George, its four o'clock!" Amelia exclaimed.

"I know," George said impatiently, "Guys! Will you listen to me! Aliens visited me last night!"

He had a sparkle in his eyes like a five-year-old on Christmas. It gave him a slightly deranged look. Well, that and the fact that his hair was in severe need of a combing.

"Aliens?!" Amelia gasped, feigning surprise.

"Yeah, and they told me that if I didn't ask Lorraine to the dance they'd come back and vaporize my brain!"

"Well damn, George, you'd better listen to them!" Marty said seriously. "But, uh, let's just keep this 'brain vaporization' stuff between us, okay?"

"Oh yeah sure, Marty, whatever you say," George rushed on. "Come on, she's in the café right now!"

George led them across to Lou's Café and positioned himself around the corner from the door. From where they stood they had a clear view of Lorraine's booth. George watched her anxiously, the deranged glimmer still sparkling in his eyes. Now it was personal. It was between a date with Lorraine Baines and the safety of his brain. Marty just wished that Lorraine alone could've gotten him this worked up. It would've made his job a lot easier.

"Well there she is, George," Amelia said, gesturing at Lorraine, "go get her."

The transformation that George underwent was unbelievably rapid. One second the mad gleam was dancing in his eyes and the next he looked like he was about to faint…or vomit. He gaped at them with wide terrified eyes as if he hadn't expected this part of the asking-her-out process.

"What, right now? Here? But I don't know what to say!"

"Just say whatever comes to mind," Amelia shrugged.

George nodded and concentrated very hard on the sidewalk. A few seconds ticked by. Amelia could see a vein pulsing on George's forehead.

"Nothing's coming to my mind," he groaned.

"Jez, George, it's a wonder I was even born," Marty grumbled under his breath.

"What?" George asked, tearing his eyes away from the ground.

"Nothing, nothing, look tell her that destiny has brought you together, that she's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen…girls love that kinda stuff."

George looked at Amelia for approval.

"We do," she shrugged, smiling.

"Ok, I'm gonna do it…just give me a second." George took out a little black notepad and began scribbling like a madman.

"What are you doing?" Marty asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Writing this down," George said, "this is good stuff."

Amelia gave Marty a look and he sighed. That was his dad.

"Right. Ok, George, here we go," Marty said, taking him under the arm.

The café was packed with teenagers. Apparently Lou's was the place to be after school let out. There wasn't a single stool available at the lunch counter and the booths were overflowing with bodies. Some kids were huddled around the jukebox talking and picking out songs. A few more were dancing in what little space they had. Lorraine's table was near them. She was leaning over a milkshake and gossiping with her girlfriends.

When George saw her he froze. Marty gave him an encouraging shove before pulling Amelia to some recently vacated stools. George gulped and inched forward, notepad at the ready, a look of terrified determination on his face. He stopped a few feet away from her table and turned around to look at them. Marty and Amelia nodded vigorously. George took a deep breath and closed the gap between him and Lorraine. For a while he just stood over her table, shifting awkwardly as she continued to chat with her friends and sip her milkshake. Then, with what looked like an enormous amount of effort, George raised his notepad and cleared his throat.

"Lorraine?" George almost whispered. Lorraine looked up slowly. "My density as popped me to you."

Marty and Amelia groaned in unison.

"Density?" Marty muttered with a pained expression.

"What?" Lorraine asked politely.

"Oh, what I meant was—"

"Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?" Lorraine asked, smiling at him.

"Yes," George beamed. He pocketed his notepad. "I'm George, George McFly, and I'm your density—I mean, your destiny."

"Oh," Lorraine breathed.

George and Lorraine were in their own world, staring at each other and smiling. Amelia nudged Marty and he nodded. He'd done a good job, his parents were together. All George would have to do now is drive Lorraine to the dance and Marty could go on existing as if nothing ever happened. More importantly, they wouldn't have to run around all of Hill Valley _looking_ for George anymore. That was what Amelia was looking forward to.

Marty was just about to order them a round of victory Pepsi's when the café door burst open. Biff and his gang stood in the doorway. The chatter died down almost instantly and a few kids got up and left. Biff scanned the crowd, his mean eyes like laser beams. When he saw George his lips curled around his teeth in a sinister sneer.

"Hey, McFly!" Biff barked. George didn't answer. He and Lorraine were still gazing at each other dreamily. "McFly, I'm talkin' to you, butthead!"

In four strides Biff was next to George. He caught him by the collar and lifted him clear off the ground.

"I thought I told you never to come in here, McFly," Biff growled. A very stunned George gasped for breath.

Marty was furious. Everything had been going according to plan, better than according to plan! Everything had been perfect! Biff couldn't just waltz in and snatch that all away from him, it wasn't fair! Marty felt himself start to shake with emotion and balled his hands into fists to try and regain control. No, he wasn't going to let Biff get away with this. There were no teachers here, no Stricklands to stop him from beating Biff into a bloody pulp. Or at least try to.

"Put him down, Biff," Marty said, standing up. Every head in the café shot in his direction. Marty suddenly felt very exposed.

"Well, look what we got here," Biff laughed. He let go of George, who fell to his knees and gulped at the air. "It's the dork who was lookin' for a fight in the cafeteria. Come back for more, punk?"

"Leave him alone, Biff, he didn't do anything to you," Marty's voice was hard.

Biff's lip curled again. He clomped over to the lunch counter and loomed over Marty, who had forgotten how much bigger Biff was than him. Biff flexed the muscles in his arms and cracked his knuckles. Marty stood his ground, albeit not quite as willingly as he had before.

"You gonna do somethin' about it, punk?" Biff snarled.

"Marty, please, just sit down," Amelia whispered next to him. Biff glanced from her to Marty and an oily smile spread across his face.

"Who's this?" he asked, turning his attention to Amelia. He leaned against the lunch counter. Amelia stiffened. "Haven't seen you around school, you new?"

Amelia didn't answer.

"Come on, baby, what's the problem? I just wanna get to know you better," Biff ran a finger down her cheek.

"Don't touch her," Marty growled. Biff grinned.

"Maybe she likes it," he said. "Maybe she wants me to touch her. How 'bout it, sweetie, do you want me to touch you? I bet you do. And I bet that's not all you want me to d—"

Before Biff had a chance to see it coming, Marty pulled back and punched him square in the jaw. The entire café gasped. Biff stumbled back a few feet but was otherwise unfazed. He opened and closed his mouth several times to survey the damage. When he decided that everything was alright he rounded on Marty, eyes on fire.

"You're gonna pay for that, punk!"

Biff threw a punch of his own but Marty was too quick. He dodged it easily and, in the moment of confusion that followed (Biff didn't do many things well, aiming punches was his only true accomplishment), was able to run out the café door and into the square.

_Ok, McFly, think…think…_ He needed an escape. There was no way he'd be able to take Biff in an actual fight. That punch had been a lucky shot. His only chance now was to outrun Biff. _Or outskate…_ If he only had a board! Marty looked around, desperate for anything that might resemble a skate board. A couple of kids were riding makeshift scooters across the street. That could work.

"Hey, kid!" Marty yelled, running to him. "Lemme have your board."

Without waiting for an answer, Marty took the scooter away and broke the handles off of it. Behind him Biff and his gang, and everyone else in Lou's Café, were pouring into the street. He heard the rev of an engine. So Biff was planning to run him over. Well, he'd have to catch him first. Marty jumped on the board and soared around the sidewalk. Behind him, Biff steered the car, his gang yelling and cheering him on as he attempted to hit Marty.

Amelia watched all this from the curb with fifty other spectators. She held her breath as Marty, followed closely by Biff in his car, circled the square. Biff was gaining on him, and soon the hood of his car was inches away from Marty's back. He laid on the gas and Marty was forced to grab a hold of the grill so he didn't fall under the car. Biff straightened out the tires and aimed at a parked dump truck. The crowd gasped as they realized Biff's intention.

"He's going to ram him!"

"He'll be chopped in half!"

Amelia closed her eyes as the distance between the dump truck and Marty's body became less and less. Suddenly, there was a horriblE crunching noise and a cheer from the crowd. Amelia peeked from under her lashes. Biff's car was buried under a pile of manure and Marty was skating away completely unharmed. It was unbelievable.

Marty rolled up to the curb and hopped off the board. He grabbed Amelia by the hand and pulled her out of the mass of bodies, all of which were shouting congratulations and patting him on the back. Skateboarding around Hill Valley and smashing Biff's car into a manure truck probably was something Emmett would suggest not doing if they didn't want to upset the balance of the universe. They needed to get out of town before something else happened.

"Isn't he a dream boat?" He heard Lorraine say as they hurried away.

Shit.


	14. Chapter 14

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READ, REVIEW, AND ENJOY!!

1955—Brown Mansion, later that day

5 Days Until Lightning Strike

Amelia was on the verge of a breakdown. She could just feel it building in her chest, pressing against her ribs like some cancerous growth. For the past two days Amelia had gracefully taken a backseat to Marty's crisis and not allowed her feelings to hinder their progress. She had shut her mouth, and at times even her mind, and let herself be lead wherever he needed to go. But the confrontation with Biff in the café had shaken her and Amelia wasn't sure how much longer she could hold out. She felt as if she was teetering on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall. It was almost too much to bear. She wanted it all to be over. She wanted to go back to her own time.

Then, of course, there was Marty. Amelia wasn't sure what to make of him lately, what with his staring at her and his reaction to Biff in the café. The signs all pointed in one direction, but Amelia was afraid to draw any conclusions less they be wrong. More importantly, she didn't want to do anything she would regret in 1985. No matter how terribly appealing the idea seemed. And it seemed fantastic.

To say that Amelia wanted Marty would have been an understatement. She no more wanted Marty than a person _wants _air. He was more than a desire. He was a necessity, a life force. There was no denying that they had been joined by the exceptional circumstances surrounding them, and that connection, that unbreakable bond, had turned into more than friendship. It was something vibrant and electrifying, something that Amelia could not quite put her finger on. But every time he touched her she could feel it burning hot through her veins. Amelia imagined that fire was the only thing keeping her from complete self-destruction.

Amelia and Marty walked up the driveway of Brown Mansion. The sun had begun to set behind the trees and Amelia saw Maggie turn on the porch lights for them. Her stomach gave a jolt. In all the commotion of setting up George and Lorraine, Amelia had almost forgotten about her mother. She felt a stab of resentment towards Marty for dragging her all around town and away from Maggie's company. And now, thanks to Biff's convenient interference, their last four days in 1955 would have to be spent fixing the mess between George and Lorraine.

_Well, at least Lorraine's over Marty,_ Amelia thought as they climbed the porch steps, _that should make it easier this time._

"Marty?"

Amelia's heart plummeted into her stomach. She stood frozen, staring at the door and praying it wasn't who she thought it was. Marty turned slowly beside her.

"Lorraine," he said. Amelia could hear the tension in his voice. "How did you know I was here?"

"I…I followed you," Lorraine stammered. "Marty, could I talk to you a second…alone?"

"Well, er…sure, Lorraine."

Amelia turned her head to look at Marty. He shrugged, a sort of "what am I supposed to do" gesture. Amelia sighed and opened the front door, leaving Marty to fend for himself.

The house smelled like pot roast and Amelia's stomach rumbled. She'd forgotten how starving she was. Following her nose, Amelia walked down the hallway and into the sitting room. Maggie had clearly been there since they had left. The blankets were folded and the pillows on the sofa straightened. Amelia smiled to herself and pushed the swinging door to the kitchen open.

"Well, about time you came back," Maggie said, looking up as she entered, "where's Marty?"

"Outside," Amelia sighed. She walked over to the stove and leaned against the counter. Maggie looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Do you need help with anything?"

Maggie searched her face but couldn't decipher what she saw there. Amelia shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah," Maggie said finally, "yeah, why don't you toss the salad for me."

Amelia fished a bowl out of the cabinet and started ripping up lettuce. She tried not to think about Lorraine and Marty on the porch but that proved to be useless. Amelia just hoped that whatever Lorraine was saying wouldn't screw up their plans anymore than they already were.

"So…" Maggie said, breaking the silence, "how do you know Marty?"

"He's…a friend," Amelia said slowly.

"Just a friend?"

"Yes, why?" Amelia turned to look at her a little too quickly and ended up dropping a handful of lettuce on the floor.

"Well you two just seem…close," Maggie ventured.

Amelia blushed and bent down to pick up the lettuce. Maggie muttered something like "oh" and dropped the subject.

Marty entered the kitchen a few minutes later looking downtrodden and extremely tired. He collapsed into a chair and buried his face in his hands. Amelia groaned inwardly. Whatever had happened outside had clearly not been for the better. She carried the salad bowl to the table and set it down in front of him. Marty looked up and heaved a sigh. His eyes said everything.

"What did Lorraine—"

"Sh!" Marty whispered. Emmett had entered the kitchen. Amelia shut up immediately.

"Smells delicious, Maggie," Emmett said, taking a seat next to Marty.

Maggie blushed scarlet and pulled the pot roast out of the oven. Amelia wondered how long it would take Emmett to realize she was in love with him. They settled around the table and Maggie brought them their plates.

"Time to eat," she said.

* * *

Amelia punched her pillow and wiggled into a better spot on the couch. She threw a blanket over her legs and yawned, exhausted. Marty came around the corner from the bathroom in his undershirt and jeans and Amelia felt her whole body blush. He gave her a slightly awkward smile and plopped down on the floor next to the sofa. Amelia turned onto her side and propped herself up on her arm.

"So?" she asked.

"So what?" Marty said, arranging his pillows.

"What did Lorraine want?" Amelia pressed.

Marty cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair.

"Well…she…eh…I'm taking her to the dance on Saturday."

"WHAT!" Amelia shouted. "Marty, this is terrible! We'll never get back at this rate! And you! You'll evaporate and I'll never see you again!" Amelia's voice cracked on the last word and her defenses fell. Tears, hot and salty, spilled over her lashes and streamed down her cheeks. Her whole body was shaking. Amelia wrapped her arms around her waist and tried to pull herself together.

Marty was beside her almost instantly. He pulled her against his chest and cradled the back of her head with his hand. She clung to him like an infant, sobbing uncontrollably into his neck. Marty rubbed her back and rocked back and forth, cooing to her soothingly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Aims, I'm right here," he whispered.

"Marty, I can't lose you," Amelia choked, "you're all I have left. Please don't leave me." She pressed herself tighter against him.

"We'll fix this…I'll fix this, everything is going to be okay."

"Promise me, Marty," Amelia said, pushing herself away so she could look into his eyes, "promise me that we're going to get home alright."

Marty stared at her intently.

"I promise, Aims."

"Oh," She breathed, shrinking against his chest. Amelia's tears quieted as an irrational sense of relief flooded through her. She knew she shouldn't put as much stock in Marty's words as she did, but it was the only way she could keep herself somewhat sane.

"Aims, look at me," he said softly, tilting her head up.

A few spare tears sneaked out of her eyes and Marty wiped them away, his hand lingering on her cheek. Amelia's heart thrummed madly and all the blood rushed to her face. His eyes, beautifully blue and clear, were boring into her. She felt slightly dizzy. Marty traced his thumb down the side of her cheek and across her bottom lip. His other hand pressed against the small of her back and drew her flush to his body. She could feel his breath against her face, hot and sweet. He inched nearer and Amelia closed her eyes.

Marty's lips touched hers hesitantly. She held her breath, terrified of doing something wrong. One of his hands moved to the back of her head and he kissed her again with more confidence. Amelia let herself kiss him back. It felt nice…better than nice. She tried to move closer and found that there was nowhere to go; she was already pressed up against him. Amelia put her arms around his neck as a compromise and he leaned into her, running his fingers through her hair.

His kisses came hungrier now, more desperate. Amelia matched his intensity and soon they were horizontal on the couch. Marty pulled himself away from her mouth and trailed kisses down her neck and onto her collar bone. Amelia arched her back and moaned while Marty's tongue flicked across her skin. She tangled her hands in his hair and pulled his mouth back to hers, greedy for more of him. Daringly, Amelia moved her hands down his chest and tugged lightly at his shirt. He froze.

"Aims," he breathed, pulling back.

"What, what's the matter?" she asked, panting.

"I...I want to, but…"

"Jennifer," Amelia finished.

"Aims, you have no idea how hard this is for me," he said.

"It's alright, Marty," Amelia said, tensing up. She shifted away from him slightly.

"You're a great girl and I don't want to hurt you or anything, and I really do care about you, but I can't just do something like that while Jen and I—" Marty was rambling. Amelia silenced him with a raise of her hand.

"It was an accident, Marty…let's just call it an accident."

Marty felt his insides twist. He swallowed the hard lump in this throat.

"But…yeah, an accident."

Nothing had ever been more untrue. And both of them knew it.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Amelia, Maggie, and the plot are mine : )

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1955—George McFly's House

3 Day's Until Lightning Strike

"I still don't understand," George said, balancing a basket of wet laundry on his hip, "how am I supposed to go to the dance with her if she's already going with Marty?"

"Because, George, she _wants _to go with you…she just doesn't know it yet," Amelia said, hopping down from her perch on the washing machine.

The three of them were squashed in George's tiny laundry room. Marty and Amelia had rushed over after school had let out to fill George in on "plan B". He'd listened to it intently, still terrified that his brain was on the line, but had come away confused by the details. Now he stood before them looking puzzled as ever.

"I still don't get it," he said, frowning.

"Look, we've got to show her you're a fighter, George," Marty explained, "that you're gonna be able to protect her."

"I don't know, guys," George said, leaving the laundry room and heading towards the clothes line in the backyard. Marty and Amelia followed him. "I've never picked a fight in my whole life."

"You wouldn't be picking a fight," Marty dismissed, "You'd be coming to her rescue, right?"

"Well…" George shrugged, setting the basket of laundry down in the grass.

"Right," Marty finished. "Alright, let's go over the plan one more time. 8:55, where are you gonna be?"

"I'm gonna be at the dance," George recited as he started stringing up wet clothes. Amelia went to help him.

"Right, and where am I gonna be?"

"You're gonna be in the car with her."

"Right, okay," Marty nodded, "so right around 9:00 she's gonna get very angry with me."

"Why is she gonna get angry with you?" George asked, clipping clothespins to a pair of blue jeans.

"Well, because George, nice girls get angry when guys take advantage of them," Marty said uncomfortably.

Amelia peeked at him from behind a housedress. He stole a glance in her direction then quickly looked away.

"You mean you're gonna touch her on the—" George gasped. Marty cut him off.

"No, no, George, it's just an act right?" he reassured. Amelia busied herself with the laundry again. Marty cleared his throat and continued. "Okay, so 9:00 you're strolling through the parking lot, you see us… struggling in the car, you walk up, you open the door and you say… your line, George!"

"Oh! Uh, hey you, get your damn hands off her!" He smiled and looked around for approval. Amelia nodded encouragingly.

"Very good, George," she said.

"Thanks, but do you really think I oughta swear?"

"Yes, definitely, God damnit, George, swear!" Marty said taking the t-shirt out of George's hands and tossing it back in the basket. "Trust me on this. You've gotta show her that you're a man and men swear."

George made a face but nodded.

"Thanks for this, guys," he said shyly, "it means a lot to me…and my brain. I just wish I wasn't so scared."

"There's nothing to be scared of, George," Amelia comforted, "everything is going to be fine."

"Right," Marty agreed, slapping him on the back. "Just do exactly what I say and by this time on Sunday you and Lorraine will be inseparable."

* * *

"I hope your plan works," Amelia said a while later as they were walking back to Brown Mansion. Her voice, while sincere in meaning, had a layer of ice to it.

"Me too," Marty muttered.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and glanced at her. Amelia, straight backed and rigid, stared blankly ahead. Marty sighed and looked at the ground. It was all his fault. Ever since the incident in the sitting room Amelia had become distant, and he couldn't say he blamed her. She was probably humiliated at allowing herself to act that way and mad that he had been the one to start it. But she had looked so beautiful and had needed him so badly… If only he had told her about his plan for Jennifer, about breaking up with her. Then she would have understood why he had had to stop. Instead he had acted like an idiot and now Amelia hated him. Marty thought about finding Biff and allowing him to beat the spit out of him. At least those wounds he'd know how to fix.

Amelia concentrated on the road ahead of her. She didn't want to look at Marty. To be honest, she didn't really want to have anything to do with him at all. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have allowed him to take advantage of her like that? Amelia had trusted him and he had acted just like every other male on the face of the planet. She felt used. More than that though, she was hurt. Marty was supposed to be her friend, the one person she had left to confide in, and now all that was gone, destroyed. Amelia blamed herself.

Marty cleared his throat and Amelia flinched as she fought the reflex to look up.

"We're gonna have to hurry to get downtown after we set them up, though," he said, "I have a feeling we'll be cutting it close."

"We?" Amelia asked, turning slightly.

"Well, yeah," Marty said, looking at her. "You're coming with, right?"

Amelia stiffened and looked away again.

"I hadn't planned on it, no."

"What do you mean?" Marty stopped, forcing Amelia to do the same. She stared at his shoes.

"I was going to go with my dad and let you take care of George and Lorraine," she said. "You don't really need me."

"Aims, we're a team!" Marty exclaimed, reaching for her. She shifted away.

"My dad needs me more, I think."

"Don't leave me there all by myself with Lorraine! I need some excuse to get away from her!" Amelia's head shot up and she glared at him. Marty could have kicked himself. _Smooth, McFly._

"Excuse!?" She hissed.

"Aims, I didn't mean it that way," Marty apologized. Amelia snorted and stalked away from him, hands balled into fists. Marty chased after her. "Look, don't do it for me then, do it for George. Keep him company and make sure he follows through on his end. You want to go home, right?"

Amelia turned. The mention of home had softened her. She fought with herself for a few seconds and then sighed in defeat.

"Alright, Marty, I'll go for George. But only for George, understand?"

"That's all I expected," he said softly. They stood around awkwardly for a few moments. "Aims, about the other—"

"Don't," she said firmly.

"But, Aims," he pressed.

"Marty, just drop it okay?"

"Can I just say something, please?"

"You already said it, Marty," Amelia looked into his eyes and he saw all the hurt and confusion he had caused. "Nice girls get angry when guys take advantage of them."

His words echoed with a new meaning and Marty flushed with embarrassment. Amelia turned and continued down the sidewalk alone. Marty let her go; it was useless to press the subject any longer. He would have to find some other way of explaining himself before he lost her forever.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: You got it ; )

***author's note* I apologize for the mix up on the days. EmmettMcFly55 noticed, and I thank them : ) I think we're back on track now though!**

READ, REVIEW, AND ENJOY!!! LOVE YOU GUYS!

1955—Brown Mansion, later that night

3 Days Until Lightning Strike

Amelia did her best to avoid Marty for the rest of the evening. She stayed in the kitchen with Maggie and helped her get dinner on the table. While they cooked, Maggie asked about her day. Leaving out any parts of the story that might cause a paradox, Amelia filled her in on Marty's plan for getting George and Lorraine together and her own intention of going to the dance. Upon hearing the latter, Maggie squealed with excitement.

"Oh good, I was so worried you wouldn't go!" she beamed.

"Yeah, well I decided why not," Amelia shrugged.

"I'm so glad," Maggie gushed, "What are you wearing? Do you have a dress?"

"I thought I'd just wear one of the ones you gave me," Amelia blushed.

"Don't be silly!" Maggie laughed. "Those old things aren't suitable for a dance! Well, I suppose I'll have to take you shopping. My treat."

"Oh no, Maggie, I couldn't let you do that," Amelia insisted. Maggie shook her head.

"Nonsense, it's already done."

Amelia didn't know what to say. Dress shopping. It was such a trivial, unimportant thing and yet Amelia's heart was ready to explode. She thought about the girls back home, the ones who'd been blessed with knowing their mothers all their lives, and realized they didn't understand the significance of what they'd been given. And, until that moment, Amelia hadn't understood exactly what had been stolen from her. But now, looking at Maggie's excited smile and glittering eyes, Amelia saw everything crystal clear. She saw that to know your mother is to know a part of yourself, a part so important that nothing else can take its place. Amelia was glad that she had been able to meet Maggie, no matter how painful it was going to be to have to leave her.

"You ok, Amelia? Dreaming about your dress?" Maggie teased. Amelia blinked.

"What? Oh, yes," Amelia stammered.

"You'll be the prettiest girl at the dance; I'll make sure of it! Oh, good evening Dr. Brown," Maggie said, turning slightly pink.

Emmett had just strolled in the kitchen. He smiled at her, went to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of Pepsi, and left. Maggie was still blushing as the swinging door _whooshed _closed. Amelia watched all this unfold and bit her lip. She knew her father better than anyone. He was the smartest and most clever man in the entire world, but when it came to human relationships he was clueless. Without the proper push he'd never see Maggie as anything more than a housekeeper which, needless to say, would seriously put a damper on Amelia's future. Not to mention all that stuff about mothers she'd just decided.

"Maggie," she said slowly, stirring a pot on the stove, "I know it's none of my business or anything, but…why don't you just tell Doc how you feel?"

Maggie almost dropped the pot she was holding. Her face, which had almost returned to its normal color, blazed red.

"What are you talking about?" She sputtered.

"Maggie, look at yourself," Amelia giggled, "you obviously like him."

"It's not appropriate, Amelia, I'm his employee!" Maggie said. She started bustling around the kitchen in an attempt to drop the subject. Amelia pressed on.

"This is the 50's not the dark ages! You won't be socially rejected or anything! Maggie, listen to me, he's not going to figure it out on his own. If you love him, which I think you do, you need to _tell _him."

Maggie stopped scurrying around the kitchen and bit her lip. Amelia could see the cogs turning in her head, sizing up what she had just said. Maggie crossed her arms and looked at her.

"How am I supposed to do that? Just walk right up and say 'Hello, Emmett, I happen to be amorously infatuated with you'?"

"Well, I was thinking about something with a little more finesse," Amelia teased. Maggie smiled.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Just drop some hints here and there," Amelia said. "I know that he'll come around eventually, but you're gonna have to make the first move."

Maggie nodded slowly and sighed.

"Alright, Amelia, I'll give it a try. But right now let's just get dinner on the table."

* * *

Amelia was already in bed by the time Marty got out of the bathroom. They hadn't spoken since the walk back from George's house and Amelia intended to keep it that way. She was facing away from him, her nose inches from the back of the couch. Amelia heard him grunt as he lowered himself onto the floor and she feigned sleep. With her eyes she traced the pattern on the sofa and listened to Marty's breathing. Every now and again he would toss restlessly, punch his pillow, sigh, then toss again. Amelia knew he was dying to talk to her, to make some excuse for his behavior the other night, but she refused to give in. She wasn't going to be made a fool out of twice.

Marty stared at the back of Amelia's head and watched it rise and fall with every breath she took. He knew she wasn't asleep yet, there was no way. He thought about getting up on the couch with her and making her listen, but something told him that that would have the opposite effect. If Amelia would only give him five minutes Marty knew he could make her understand. He grit his teeth and prepared to get shot down.

"Hey Aims," he whispered. Her reply was a very theatrical snore. "Aims, I know you're not sleeping."

"Yes I am, go away" she mumbled.

"Will you just listen to me?" She snored again, louder this time. "Amelia!"

"Marty, I have to go dress shopping tomorrow morning because you insisted I go to this stupid dance," Amelia said, back still to him. "Now excuse me if I've had my fill of emotional homicide for the day! I think you've said quite enough for one 24 hour period. Goodnight!"

Amelia threw the blanket over her head and shut him out completely. A part of her felt bad for treating Marty so terribly. But another, more forceful part insisted he deserved it.

Marty stared at the ceiling and sighed. Oh well, he'd figured she wouldn't willingly listen anyway. He would just have to force her to pay attention. The dance was his last hope. If he could get her alone, and the music was just right, maybe, just maybe he would be able to talk some sense into her.

_Until then, _Marty thought as he curled up on his pillow, _I'd better give her room to cool off. _


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: Maggie, Amelia, plot : )

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1955—Downtown Hill Valley, Dress Shop

2 Days Until Lightning Strike

Kate's Boutique was one of the many little shops that ran along Main Street. It was situated between Lou's Café and a furniture store and was doing its best to appear Parisian. A pink and white candy striped awning shaded the front of the building and two swirling topiaries stood on either side of the French doors. _Kate's Boutique _was written across the front window in sweeping gold letters that curved into a half circle, framing an attractive display of women's hats. A chorus of bells tinkled above their heads as Maggie and Amelia entered and Amelia had to admit the shop had its charm.

Maggie bid good morning to the woman behind the sales counter and led Amelia to the back where a few other girls were browsing with their mothers.

"Now, what kind of dress do you want?" Maggie asked as she scanned the selection.

"I hadn't really thought about it," Amelia admitted. She looked around; the racks seemed to stretch on for miles. The shop was a maze of frills and chiffon. Amelia felt a little overwhelmed. "Um…I like blue."

"Blue's a good start," Maggie laughed.

They went up and down the aisle twice with Maggie stopping here and there to pull out a dress she found to be worthy of trying on. Amelia hung back, idly sifting through the clothes as she passed them. She wasn't really in the mood for shopping anymore. Last night's argument with Marty was eating at her and ruining the experience. She tried to focus on a rose colored cocktail dress and found that, though she was standing no more than a foot from it, all she could see was Marty. Disgusted, Amelia shoved the dress aside.

"Amelia," Maggie ventured cautiously, "I know something is bothering you, it's as plain as day. Now I know you probably don't want to talk about it but—"

"It's Marty," Amelia said, cutting her off. "I thought we were just friends…but then…well, now I guess I don't know what we are."

Maggie turned away from the rack to look at her.

"What happened?"

"We…had a fight."

"Bad?"

Amelia nodded, "Yeah."

"Did either of you apologize?" Maggie asked.

"He tried," Amelia said, "but I wouldn't let him."

"Why not?"

"Because it wouldn't have mattered."

"Do you know that for sure?" Maggie prodded, raising her eyebrows.

Amelia opened her mouth to respond but found she had nothing to say. She frowned and bit her lip.

"All I'm going to say is that you should look long and hard at your friendship with Marty," Maggie continued, giving her a knowing look. "Whatever he did can't be worth losing him altogether."

She fell silent then and went back to thumbing through dresses.

Amelia stared blankly at Maggie's back. What exactly had Marty done? Oh sure, he had confused her beyond all possible reason and made her feel like Hill Valley's biggest idiot, but had that really been his intention? Amelia tried to remember what he had said that night, what he had done. She recalled the scent of his clothes, his arms around her, the sound of his voice. She isolated the memory of him comforting her. He had sounded so sincere, so Marty. And his eyes! Amelia felt her stomach clench as Marty's eyes flashed before her memory, truthful as ever. She had been terribly, horribly wrong. Marty had no more meant for anything to happen than she had, and he had probably only brought up Jennifer to try and save them from doing anything else stupid. It all made so much sense…how had she not seen it before?

"Amelia!" Maggie's voice called to her. She started and looked around. "Amelia, I'm in the dressing room! Come try these on!"

Amelia took a deep breath and steadied herself. Everything would be fine. As soon as they were done shopping she would go back to Brown Mansion and beg for forgiveness.

"Amelia!"

"I'm coming!"

* * *

"It's lovely, Amelia!" Maggie gushed.

Amelia looked at herself in the three way mirror. She tilted her head and turned from side to side, appraising the dress. It was an iridescent royal blue with a square neckline, capped sleeves, and a full pleated skirt that hit her at the ankle. Amelia smiled at her reflection. She didn't look half bad.

"I love it, Maggie," she beamed, making a full turn.

"What a pretty dress, Amelia."

Amelia was about to make another turn but stopped. Lorraine had just appeared in the mirror. Amelia stared at her. Lorraine's reflection shifted uncomfortably and offered the tiniest of smiles. Amelia, unsure of what to do, smiled back.

"Thank you, Lorraine," she said uncertainly.

"Do you mind if I use the mirror?" Her tone was pleasant and friendly. Amelia was baffled.

"Not at all," she said, stepping down from the platform.

Maggie looked back and forth between them and then stood up.

"I'll just go pay for your dress, shall I?" she said. Without waiting for a reply she left.

Lorraine stepped onto the platform and situated herself in front of the mirror. She was wearing a very pretty coral colored dress that complemented her skin perfectly. Amelia watched her as she primped and examined herself, looking for flaws. She was sure Lorraine had something else to say. Finally, Lorraine shattered the silence.

"Amelia," she said, looking at her through the mirror, "I just wanted to apologize for being so nasty to you."

"Oh," Amelia blinked, taken aback by the sudden display of kindness, "it's alright, Lorraine."

"No its not," Lorraine protested, turning around completely. "Will you forgive me? I mean really, really forgive me? I feel awful about it."

"Of course I forgive you, Lorraine," Amelia reassured. Lorraine smiled prettily and turned back to the mirror.

"Gee thanks, Amelia. There's one more thing too…"

"I know about Marty," Amelia said. Lorraine didn't look surprised.

"You're not sore, are you?"

"No, Lorraine, I'm not sore."

Lorraine jumped down from the platform and threw her arms around Amelia's shoulders. She squeezed her gently and planted a quick kiss on her cheek.

"Oh good! I want us to be friends, best friends! I can't stand the thought of us not liking each other, especially since it looks like I'm going to be spending a lot of time with Marty." Lorraine turned pink and squeezed her again. "Saturday is going to be the best, don't you think?"

Lorraine let her go and skipped off to her own fitting room. Amelia stood there, stunned. Had Lorraine actually just been nice? _It's because of Marty, she thinks she's won, _a voice in her head told her. Amelia smirked, that was probably it. Well, at least she didn't have to put up with Lorraine glaring at her anymore. Amelia would take nice Lorraine over evil Lorraine any day of the week, whatever her motives were.

* * *

1955—Brown Mansion, Later That Night

2 Days Until Lightning Strike

Amelia stared up at the ceiling and tried not to fall asleep. Marty had not shown up for dinner that night. He and Emmett were locked away in the laboratory making modifications on the DeLorean and had refused all of Maggie's attempts to get them to "come eat something". That had been hours ago. Now, Amelia was desperately trying to stay awake in the hopes that Marty would come to bed and she would be able to apologize to him. Unfortunately, and irritatingly enough, her eyes kept drooping. She bit her lip hard and the pain woke her up a little.

What was she going to say to him? "I'm sorry" just didn't seem to cut it. She had been utterly horrible to him, worse than horrible. She hadn't even allowed him to talk, for heaven's sake! Amelia was going to have to get down on her knees and plead for mercy. Anything less would be disrespectful. She just hoped that Marty would be able to forgive her.

Amelia's eyelids grew heavy again. She chomped down on her lip but the pain wasn't fierce enough to jolt her awake. The pillow cradled her head softly and she felt her body succumbing to the end of the day. She tried to shake her head but her limbs were too heavy. _Marty, I have to wait for Marty…I have to wait…for…_ Her eyelids gave one last weak flutter of resistance before surrendering to sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I own Aims : )

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***author's note* **

**For those of you who read chapter 17 and wondered "hey, where the heck is Marty??" this is the answer! This is Thursday, November 10th from Marty's POV.**

1955—Brown Mansion

2 Days Until Lightning Strike

Marty felt someone prodding him. He grunted and curled against his pillow, it was too early to move. He screwed his eyes shut and tried desperately to hold on to the dream he had been having. Unfortunately, the irritatingly methodical poking rendered his attempts futile. Marty groaned and forced an eye open. Emmett's blurry outline loomed over him, his face about a foot away.

"Hey, Doc," Marty muttered groggily.

"Good, you're awake!" Emmett whispered. "I require your assistance. Meet me in the lab."

"Yeah, sure," Marty yawned, sitting up. "Let me get some pants, ok?"

"Be quick! This is sure to be an all day endeavor." As Emmett straightened up he happened to glance at Amelia, who was snoring lightly on the sofa. His eyes softened as they lingered on her face and a small somber frown spread across his lips. He made an awkward movement as if to go to her, thought better of it, and scuttled out of the room.

Marty rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch. It was five-thirty in the morning. He ran his hands through his hair and yanked back the blanket. The cold air hit the bare skin of his thighs and gave him goose bumps. Marty searched around for his pants and found they had been kicked underneath the couch. After making sure that Amelia was still unconscious, he stood up and pulled them on along with a t-shirt and a pair of socks. Sufficiently dressed, he waddled sleepily down the hall to Emmett's lab.

Emmett was welding something when Marty shuffled in. Sparks were flying everywhere and the noise grated on Marty's eardrums. Wincing, he shouted to Emmett over the roar. Emmett waved to him in acknowledgment but didn't stop what he was doing. Marty yawned and took at seat at the workbench. He was happy to see a large pot of coffee sitting next to an outstretched schematic of the DeLorean. He poured himself a cup and waited for instructions.

"Good morning, good morning, good morning," Emmett said cheerfully, setting down his welding equipment and carrying a long pole over to the work station. "I trust you had a good night sleep."

"Yeah, it was great," Marty said, gulping his coffee. "What'cha got there, Doc?"

"This, Marty, is what I need your help with today. This is the pole and hook device we will be using to shoot 1.21 gigawatts of electricity into the flux capacitor. You and I are going to make it."

"Sweet."

"I've already welded this pole together, obviously," Emmett continued, "but I still need the hook configured and attached to the end of it. That will be your job. I'll work on the wiring for the flux capacitor. You've taken a shop class before, haven't you?"

"First semester sophomore year," Marty replied.

"That will have to do," Emmett said. He handed him a set of tools and a thick piece of copper. "You'll need to bend this into a hook and then attach it to the pole. I'll give you more instructions when you get to that point, but for now just work on shaping it."

"No problem, Doc."

Emmett cleared off the work bench for him and then disappeared to fiddle with the DeLorean.

Marty stretched and hunched over the table. He picked up a pair of pliers and began working the copper. It was moderately pliable but still required him to use a fair amount of effort to get it to bend. He pushed the wire against the table and it gave slightly, forming a small curve. Marty stared at it and sighed. It was going to be a very long day.

* * *

Marty chanced another look at his watch and hoped he had read it wrong the first time. Nope, it still read two o'clock. He had been bending copper for almost nine hours. His hands ached from gripping the pliers and his back felt locked in a permanent hunch. Not to mention the fact that he was ravenous for something other than coffee.

"Hey, Doc," Marty called over his should, "do you think we could break for lunch or something?"

"Lunch?" Emmett's head popped up from behind the DeLorean, "Oh, yes, of course."

The two made their way to the kitchen. As they passed through the sitting room, Marty's thoughts jumped to Amelia. In the commotion of the morning he'd forgotten about her. Now her absence was all too obvious. He felt inside of him an obsessive nagging desire to know where she was and the protective beast roared to life once more. _Cut it out, McFly, _he reasoned with himself, _you know she's safe. She's with Maggie at the dress shop. Nothing's gonna happen to her…what could happen anyway?_ Nothing, he decided. His fears were completely irrational. Then again, so was…well…he wouldn't go there just yet.

After much deliberation, he and Emmett made the difficult decision to have ham sandwiches and Pepsi's for lunch. They sat down at the kitchen table and started to gnaw away at their food. For a while they sat without talking, eating their ham sandwiches and staring off in opposite directions. Then Emmett took a contemplative swig of his Pepsi and broke the silence.

"She's a very beautiful girl, isn't she," he muttered, not looking at Marty.

Marty stopped chewing his mouthful of ham.

"Huh?" he said thickly.

"Amelia," Emmett clarified, "she's pretty."

Marty swallowed.

"Yeah," he said awkwardly, not quite understanding. "I mean…I think so."

"Is she a beautiful person too? Is she kind?" Emmett picked at the label on his Pepsi bottle. Marty finally saw where he was going.

"Doc," he said slowly, "you're a great dad. I tried to tell you before. Amelia loves you more than anything in the world. You're her hero."

Emmett looked up and smiled.

"You must know her very well. In the future, are you two…?"

Marty choked on the sip of Pepsi he was taking.

"Not exactly," he said, wiping his chin. Emmett raised an eyebrow, an invitation to continue. "It's a complicated situation, Doc, and I'm not gonna lie, this is kinda weird. I mean, you're her dad and everything."

"Not yet," Emmett said.

Marty exhaled slowly.

"Alright, but promise me you won't get mad thirty years from now."

Emmett nodded in agreement. Marty took a deep breath and told Emmett the whole story from start to finish. Or, at least, as much of the story as a father needs to hear. When he had finished, Emmett sat thinking and twirling his soda bottle.

"Hmm, very interesting indeed," Emmett said. "And she's mad at you, you say? Even though you've repeatedly attempted to apologize?" Marty nodded. "Well her anger is completely irrational. Just leave her alone for a while, stay out of her way. I'm sure she'll come around."

"That was my plan," Marty said.

* * *

By the time Marty made it to bed that night Amelia was already fast asleep and he was strangely thankful that she was unconscious. Marty didn't want another opportunity to mess things up with her. He was already planning ways to stay out of her hair until Saturday night. It would be easier than it seemed. The DeLorean's modifications still weren't complete. Marty had bent copper until his hands almost bled, but the hook needed more work. Tomorrow he would be able to use that excuse. Saturday was another story, but he would plan that later.

Marty collapsed onto the floor, yanked off his jeans, and wrapped himself in his blanket. On the couch, Amelia muttered something in her sleep. Marty sighed. He didn't want to think about what would happen if his plan failed.

_She needs time,_ Marty said, trying to convince himself, _just give her some room and on Saturday she'll be ready to listen to what you have to say. _

On Saturday everything would be fine.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Aims, Maggie : )

READ AND REVIEW!!!

***author's note* **

**Please, please, please don't hate me for this... It had to be done. You'll understand later, I promise. I love you all dearly : )**

1955—Brown Mansion

1 Day Until Lightning Strike

Amelia sat at the kitchen table and leaned her chin on her hand. Her lunch sat in front of her virtually untouched, a perfectly good BLT going to waste. She didn't care, she wasn't hungry. Her racing mind was preventing her stomach from feeling much of anything…except maybe nausea. As far as Amelia knew, Marty had never come to bed last night. Nor had she seen him all morning. The fact was making her slightly panicky. She was desperate to apologize to Marty and make everything alright between them. Unfortunately, his invisibility was making it difficult.

"Not hungry?" Maggie asked.

"No," Amelia sighed. She pushed her plate farther away and laid her head on her arms.

"Don't worry, honey," Maggie said, taking the uneaten sandwich away, "he's got to come out of that lab sometime."

"I know…I was just hoping that this would all be fixed by now."

Maggie rubbed her back gently.

"You're worrying too much," she soothed.

"Tell me about it…"

Amelia exhaled and pushed herself away from the table. She left Maggie to wash the lunch dishes and shuffled into the sitting room. Not surprisingly there was still no sign of Marty, and Amelia's hopes, which she foolishly had allowed to swell, fell again. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly and Amelia wrapped her arms around her waist. She had to get her mind off him or else she would really be sick. _Music, Aims, listen to some music._

On a table in the far corner of the room sat Emmett's gramophone and record collection. Amelia crossed to it and began sifting through the albums. Most of them were by artists she didn't recognize, big names of the 50's that had faded into obscurity before she had been born, but a few looked familiar. She chose a record by a female group, The McGuire Sisters, and set it gently on the turn table. After giving the gramophone a few good cranks, Amelia placed the tip of the needle on the vinyl and music began to fill the sitting room. Three treble voices sang out in perfect harmony:

_Sincerely, oh yes, sincerely  
'Cause I love you so dearly  
Please say you'll be mine_

Amelia started to sway from side to side. She closed her eyes and let the music move her. It was surprisingly soothing.

_Sincerely, oh you know how I love you_

_I'd do anything for you_

_Please say you'll be mine_

She danced around the sitting room, twirling and skipping in time to the music. Amelia glided to the sofa and scooped up a pillow. Cradling it to her chest, she started to sing.

_"Oh Lord, won't you tell me why_

_I love that fella so._

_He doesn't want me,_

_But I'll never, never, never, never let him go"_

Amelia swept around the sitting room with her dance partner. She imagined herself to be Ginger Rogers and the throw pillow her Fred Astaire. She cuddled Fred closer and sang into his plush body.

_"Sincerely, oh you know how I love you_

_I'd do anything for you_

_Please say you'll b—Oh!"_

Amelia halted mid turn and Fred fell softly to the floor. Marty was standing in the doorway staring at her. By the look on his face he had been there a while. Amelia blushed and bent to pick up her dance partner.

"Marty, I didn't hear you come in," she stammered. She straightened up and threw the pillow back on the couch.

"Yeah, well I was just going to get a Pepsi," he said. "Sorry to bother you…"

"No," Amelia said, taking a step towards him, "I mean, it's ok. Where have you been all morning?"

"With your dad," Marty said. "Hey, I really gotta get back, Aims, your dad needs me."

"Oh…yeah," Amelia said.

Marty went into the kitchen and returned a minute later with two bottles of Pepsi. He gave her a brief lopsided smile but didn't stop to talk again. Amelia bit her lip. The panic was returning, filling her chest and compressing her lungs. Marty rounded the corner and she heard his footsteps in the hallway. Amelia ran after him.

"Marty! Marty, I have something—"

"Aims, I really need to get back to work," Marty cut in, turning to her. "I'm sorry, can we talk later?"

"But, Marty, this is really—"

"Marty! Hurry up!" Emmett's muffled voice came from behind the lab door.

"I gotta go," Marty apologized. "Nice voice though, I didn't know you could sing so well."

Then he disappeared into Emmett's laboratory.

"Yeah…thanks," she mumbled.

Amelia stood in front of the closed door, her chest heaving. She deserved it of course, this causal casting off. For a second Amelia thought about barging into the lab and forcing her apology on him, but she pushed that aside. Based on how she had treated him over the past few days, Amelia didn't have the right to demand _anything_ of Marty. Not to mention that if she went running into the lab her father would probably spazz out. The DeLorean needed to be finished and her problems, as much as it pained her to admit it, could wait.

She went back into the sitting room and flopped down on the sofa. The McGuire Sisters were still warbling in the background. She closed her eyes and listened to the lyrics, attempting to put Marty out of her head again. She thought about tomorrow evening instead. One more day, one more day and then she would be back in her own time. Amelia wondered what that would mean for her. Without Emmett, where would she stay? What would she do? If only there was some way to warn him... To ensure his safetly...

Suddenly, Amelia had a flash of brilliance. She catapulted off the sofa and hurdled into the kitchen.

"Maggie," she said breathlessly, "I need to write a letter."


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: You guys know it : )

READ AND REVIEW! I LOVE COMMENTS!

***author's note* **

**So, the next few installments of this story are going to be done from both Marty's and Amelia's POV's. The dance is such an involved event that I didn't think it was fair to just give one person's perspective. Plus I thought it would be more fun to read : ) I'm sorry this took so long to get out but I've been crazy busy. Amelia's POV is in the works, so hang tight. Love you guys! You're the best readers EVER!**

1955—Enchantment Under the Sea Dance

Saturday, November 12th. Day of the Lightning Strike

Marty's POV

Marty stood in Emmett's downstairs bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. His clothes were splayed out on the vanity counter but he couldn't find the motivation to put them on. The sooner he got dressed the sooner he would have to go pick up Lorraine, and the sooner he picked up Lorraine the sooner he would have to put his plan into action. The thought made his stomach churn. Putting the moves on his mother was not something he was looking forward to. To be perfectly honest, he wasn't even sure he was going to be able to go through with it.

He looked at his watch and heaved a sigh. It was nearly six-thirty; the time for procrastination was quickly running out. Marty still had to help Emmett set up his equipment before going to Lorraine's house. With a massive amount of effort he pulled on the suit Maggie had picked out for him, a grey and black number that Marty thought had to be the most ridiculous thing he had ever seen. He felt worse than stupid wearing it, he felt like his father. Cringing, he turned back to the mirror and ran a comb through his hair.

"This is as good as it's gonna get," he muttered to his reflection, who gazed back morosely. "Let's go hit on our mother."

He flipped off the light and headed down the hallway, his heavy dress shoes clomping loudly on the hardwood floors.

"Hey, Doc! I'm ready to get…going…" Marty let his voice trail off. Amelia was descending the staircase. Her hair was piled up on the top of her head in delicate curls that fell softly onto the nape of her neck. Her makeup was light, enhancing her natural beauty and giving her a peaches-and-cream complexion. And her dress! Her dress was a brilliant blue and hugged her in such a way that Marty's tie began to feel very tight against his Adams-apple. He pulled at it and cleared his throat.

"Are you alright?" Amelia asked, gliding gracefully down the last few steps and landing next to him.

"Yeah, I'm…I'm fine," he stammered.

Marty saw Amelia blush fuchsia and realized he was staring. He forced himself to look elsewhere but kept her in his peripheral vision. She was so beautiful, so completely, amazingly, beautiful. His tie was beginning to feel like a noose around his neck and he could feel sweat starting to break out on his forehead. What was the matter with him? He'd never done this with Jennifer, and he had _really _liked her. What was so different about this? About her? What was there about this girl, this moody, unreasonable, endearing, delightful, utterly flawed girl that drove him to feel so strongly? Marty tried to run over the reasons in his head and found that the "what wasn't there" list was much shorter.

They stood awkwardly for a few moments, looking at each other's shoes but not really sure of what to say. Then Amelia cleared her throat.

"Marty, can we talk?"

Marty tensed up instantaneously. _Talk, _it was a loaded word. What if he said something stupid? What if she ended up hating him even more because of it? No, talking was not a good idea, not here at least. He had to get her alone on the dance floor, on his turf where he could call the shots. If they started to hash things out now it would only end horribly. He wasn't willing to take that chance.

"Aims, I want to," he said, "but I've really gotta get downtown with Doc. We've got to start setting stuff up or we'll never make it."

He gave her a rueful look and started to move towards the door. He hated ignoring her like this, pushing her aside like she wasn't important. Marty only hoped she could see it was for her own good that he did it. He wasn't trying to be mean; he was trying to hold on to what they still had.

"But this is really, really important, Marty," Amelia said, close on his heels. Her eyes were big and pleading. For a second Marty's resolve wavered, but he overcame it.

"I'm sorry, Aims, I gotta go," Marty apologized as he pulled the front door open and stepped onto the porch. "Take care of George, ok? Make sure he doesn't get himself killed by Biff."

Without waiting for a response, he let the door close softly in her face. The metallic click of the door latch seemed to sing the word _jerk, _and Marty had to agree. He had never felt so terrible in all his life. His actions didn't feel merited at all, no matter how awful Amelia had been. Knowing that he was the one causing her distress was worse than any insult she had thrown at him. He didn't enjoy being responsible for her suffering.

Marty trudged miserably down the porch steps and made his way over to where Emmett's big yellow Ford was parked. The back seat was loaded with equipment, poles and wires that looked important but whose function Marty was unaware of. He was glad that Emmett would be doing all the real work, connecting wires and whatnot. Marty had a feeling that he'd just succeed in messing everything up if left alone with the cables and a pair of pliers. His job was to drop Emmett off and help unload…that he could definitely do.

Marty threw his sport coat in the cab and walked around to the rear of the car. Emmett was bent over the hitch checking the connection between the Ford and the trailer that carried the DeLorean. He straightened up and brushed his hands on his pants.

"Well, that should do it," Emmett said, "we're almost ready to go. Help me with this tarp, will you?"

Marty took one side of a large tarp and helped Emmett cover the DeLorean. They secured the cloth in place and then headed for the front seat. As Marty crawled inside, he looked over his shoulder at Brown Mansion. More than likely, this would be the last time he ever laid eyes on the beautiful home. As much as he wanted to get back to his own time, there was something terribly sad about the whole thing. Leaving Emmett, Maggie, and Brown Mansion with the knowledge of what would become of them over the next thirty years left Marty with a feeling of melancholy.

"You alright, Marty?" Emmett asked, piloting the Ford down the driveway.

"Yeah, Doc, just thinking that's all."

"Good idea, better get yourself ready for when you pick up your mom. I'm almost positive that's not going to be easy."

Marty shot him a withering glance but didn't say anything. He leaned his forehead against the window and focused on the passing scenery. It was going to be a rough night.

* * *

Marty pulled up to the curb outside of Lorraine's house about an hour and a half later. It was eight o'clock, a whole hour later than Lorraine had suggested picking her up. It was all part of his plan. Marty knew he should get out of the car and meet her at the door like a gentleman, but that would be making the _right_ impression, which was not tonight's primary objective. Tonight he wanted to repel Lorraine as much as humanly possible. So, pushing aside every rule of etiquette his parents had ever drilled into his head, Marty laid on the horn. The result was an abrasive and sustained honk.

"Shit," Marty whispered to himself as a flock of birds erupted from a tree across the street.

It took several more honks before Lorraine got the picture. She came running down her front walk with a pronounced scowl on her face, clearly not used to being ordered around. Marty smirked with satisfaction; irritating his mother might not be as difficult as he had thought. He might actually be able to avoid doing anything…unpleasant. Unfortunately, all that hopeful thinking flew out of the car window when Lorraine plopped down next to him with a gigantic smile on her face.

"Hi, Marty!" Lorraine beamed, slamming the door behind her. She leaned across the seat and attempted to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Hi," he said, smoothly avoiding her lips by turning on the radio. "You ready?"

Marty gave her a small smile and Lorraine's pout vanished. She beamed at him and scooted closer, laying her hand dangerously close to his thigh. Marty made a mental note to keep his grins to himself.

Fifteen minutes later, Marty pulled Emmett's Ford into the parking lot at Hill Valley High. Kids were converging on the building in droves, flocking to the illuminated gymnasium like moths to a flame. They giggled and skipped across the parking lot with their dates, excited to see how the night would end. Some were hanging around their cars, sneaking cigarettes or downing gulps of alcohol before making their grand entrance. Marty could see Biff among them. He was taking long drags on a cigarette and passing a bottle back and forth with his buddies.

Making sure to stay out of Biff's line of sight, Marty pulled into a parking space and cut the engine.

"Do you mind if we…park for a while?" Marty said, looking anywhere but at Lorraine. _Please, please let there be therapy for this!_

"That's a great idea. I'd love to park." Lorraine inched closer.

"Huh?" He looked at her, utterly terrified.

"Marty, I'm almost eighteen-years-old," Lorraine giggled, "it's not like I've never parked before."

Lorraine reached over and ran her hand up Marty's thigh. He attempted to wiggle away from her and ended up bumping his head on the ceiling.

"W-what are you doing?" he stammered.

"You seem nervous, Marty, is something wrong?"

"No, no, nope, everything's great," he lied, carefully removing her hand from his thigh.

Lorraine frowned at him, not buying his excuse. She thought for a minute then bent down and took something out of her purse, a bottle of scotch. Lorraine took a long pull on it before offering it to Marty.

"This should take the edge off," she teased, shaking the bottle.

Marty gaped at her.

"Lorraine, what are you doing?"

"I swiped it from the old ladies liquor cabinet," she giggled, taking another sip.

"Yeah well, you shouldn't drink," Marty chastised. He took the bottle away from her. Lorraine looked affronted.

"Marty, don't be such a square. Everybody who's anybody drinks." Lorraine rolled her eyes and plunged back in her purse.

Marty considered the bottle, shrugged, and took a sip. He certainly needed a little liquid confidence right about now. He took another drink and glanced at Lorraine. To his surprise there was a cigarette clasped firmly between her lips. Marty spit all over the steering wheel.

"Jesus, you smoke too?" He coughed.

"Marty, you're beginning to sound just like my mother," Lorraine muttered, irritated. She opened the door and flicked her half-smoked cigarette onto the concrete. "There, it's gone. Happy?"

"Yeah, sure…can't believe you smoke," he mumbled to himself.

Marty looked at his watch, it was nearly eight forty-five. Fifteen more minutes and he was home free. Fifteen more minutes and George would yank him out of the car and mercifully punch his lights out. It was getting _through_ the next fifteen minutes that worried Marty. Operation Revolt Lorraine hadn't exactly worked. It was time to take drastic action…very, very drastic action.

"Marty, why are you so nervous?"

Marty looked sideways at her. She was a few inches from his face and her hand was back on his thigh. Under usual circumstance, such close contact with a girl would be enough to get him "fired up", and Marty had been worried about something like that happening. What kind of a freak would he have been to get turned on by his own mother? Albeit a younger, thinner, considerably more attractive version, but his mother nonetheless. Thankfully, Marty felt nothing south-of-the-border. He was, however, experiencing the worst nausea of his entire life.

"Lorraine, have you ever, uh, been in a situation where you know you had to act a certain way but when you got there… you didn't know if you could go through with it?"

Lorraine smiled at him and pressed closer. Marty felt himself collide with the door handle. _Great, _he thought, _trapped._

"You mean like how you're supposed to act on a first date?" She squeezed his thigh before running her hand higher. Marty started to sweat.

"Yeah, sorta."

"You know what I do in those situations?"

"W-what?" Her face was close, too close. He could smell the scotch on her breath. It made his stomach turn.

"I don't worry." Lorraine closed the distance between them and smashed her lips against his. The minute they touched, however, Lorraine's eyes went wide, almost as wide as Marty's. She pulled back slowly and wiped her smudged lipstick, confusion etched all over her face. When she spoke it was tentative. "This is all wrong. I don't know what it is, but when I kiss you I feel like I'm kissing…my brother. I guess that doesn't make sense, does it?"

"No, Lorraine," Marty said, straightening up, "it makes perfect sense."

Lorraine was about to say something but was interrupted by the driver's side door being yanked open.

"You cost me three-hundred bucks damage to my car, you son-of-a-bitch, and I'm gonna take it out of your ass!" snarled Biff.

Damn it.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: You got it : )

READ AND REVIEW!! LOVE YOU GUYS!

***author's note***

**Alright, so... Any time issues I had in the last chapter I believe have been fixed. If not, please point them out to me and I'll edit ASAP. I know I'm taking a little longer than usual in turning out these chapters, but this is my favorite part of the story and I want to make sure it's good. PLUS, I just got the BTTF novelization from amazon and I've been reading it...sorry : ) ENJOY! **

1955—Enchantment Under the Sea Dance

Saturday, November 12, Day of Lightning Strike

Amelia's POV

Amelia sat at the antique dressing table in Emmett's bedroom. Maggie stood behind her and ran a soft brush through her hair, sweeping the tresses off Amelia's forehead and neck. She gave the locks an elegant twist and secured them to the top of her head with bobby pins. The result was a lovely cascade of delicate curls. Maggie squeezed her shoulders and smiled at her through the mirror.

"There, how do you like it?" she asked.

"It's beautiful, Maggie!" Amelia beamed as she leaned forward to inspect herself. Her curls bounced with approval.

"Now, about your makeup," Maggie said, rummaging through a bag on Emmett's bed, "I was thinking of pink lipstick. Not to bold, but not too subtle. What do you think?"

"Sounds great," Amelia said, turning around to look at her.

It was so surreal, even more so than their trip to the dress shop had been. Here they were, otherwise perfect strangers, interacting like they had known each other for their entire lives. Like mother and daughter, like it was supposed to be between them. An unexpected lump appeared in Amelia's throat, startling her. She swallowed hard and it retreated a few inches. Amelia shouldn't have allowed herself to grow close to Maggie, but it had happened. Now she was about to leave and return to a future where Maggie didn't exist anymore, where Amelia would be utterly alone.

"Here, try these," Maggie said, handing Amelia a pile of cosmetics.

She took the makeup and turned back to the mirror. Maggie bent over her shoulder and instructed her on proper application. Amelia followed her directions carefully, sneaking glances at her mother from time to time. Her heart was breaking, ripping in half. She didn't want to leave this. For seventeen years Amelia had been deprived of any type of maternal affection. Now that she had had a taste of it, it wasn't something she was willing to lose. She wished there was something she could do to stop Maggie from dying, but cancer wasn't something you could write a letter preventing. Her father's death could be forewarned, Maggie's was inevitable. Amelia felt the full paralyzing weight of the situation and had to swallow another painful lump.

"Here, pat your lips with this while I get your dress," Maggie handed her a tissue and went to take her dress out of the box.

Amelia dabbed at her lips and tossed the used tissue in the waste basket. As she straightened up she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Amelia gasped. The face staring back at her was shockingly pretty. Her cheeks and lips had a light blush to them and her eyes seemed to pop out of her face, sparkling a rich jade. Amelia giggled and lifted a hand to her cheek. She had no idea she could look this way. It was a pleasant surprise. She turned her head from left to right and tried to determine which was her better side. The curls bounced better on the left, but her profile was more attractive on the right…

"Amelia!"

Amelia's head whipped around. Maggie was laughing behind her, holding out her dress. She blushed when she realized that Maggie must have been trying to get her attention for a while.

"Sorry," Amelia stood up and hurried across the room to her. "Guess I got carried away."

Maggie just smiled and lifted the gown above her head. Amelia stretched her arms up obligingly and the satin slipped over her skin. It felt deliciously cool against her bare shoulders.

"You look breathtaking," Maggie gushed as she buttoned up the back. "Let's see if Marty will be able to avoid your apology now." Amelia snorted. She had a feeling that Marty could avoid just about anything if he wanted to. "You'll have to tell me all about it when you come home!"

Amelia turned to her. Maggie's eyes were bright with excitement and yet again the lump threatened dangerously. _Come home…_how desperately she wanted this to be her home. It would be a dream to stay in 1955 with her parents and Marty, to live the life she was about to lose forever. But if Amelia had learned anything in the past week, it was that paradoxes were fickle things to get involved with. What seemed like a great idea now could threaten all of mankind later. "Coming home" to Maggie was not an option.

"Maggie," Amelia began slowly, trying to keep her voice in check, "thank you for everything. You've been wonderful."

She threw her arms about her shoulders and squeezed her tightly. Maggie hugged her back hesitantly at first, baffled by the sudden display of affection. Then, getting the gist, she held her tighter.

"I don't know why it is," she said into Amelia's hair, "but I feel so close to you. Almost like…like sisters. Is that strange?"

"No," Amelia half sobbed. She bit her lip to ward off any tears. She was wearing mascara after all.

"What's this? No crying! You're going to a wonderful party, you're going to make up with Marty, and everything is going to turn out just fine. So smile, darling!" Maggie had pushed Amelia an arm's length away and was searching her face. Amelia smiled sadly. Maggie raised an eyebrow, "Well that's a start. But if I were you I'd work on it a little before showing it off."

Amelia laughed in spite of herself.

The clock on Emmett's nightstand started to chime. It was six-thirty. Amelia had arranged to meet George at the dance a little after seven. She knew it was a bit early but she figured George could use all the pep talk time he could get. The more confidence she could instill in him the smoother things were sure to go on Marty's end. And seeing as George avoided confidence like the plague, an hour and a half of self-esteem building didn't seem unreasonable. Leaving Maggie to straighten things up, Amelia exited Emmett's bedroom and headed down the hallway to the staircase.

Amelia heard the clomping of shoes in the hallway below her. Certain that it was Marty, she rushed to the top of the stairs and took the first few steps two at a time. She slowed just before coming into view and did her best to assume a relatively nonchalant gait. Marty's head appeared under the banister and their eyes met. Amelia offered him a tentative smile.

"…get…going…" whatever Marty had been saying died away. She saw him give her the onceover with openmouthed admiration and her grin widened. Marty pulled at his tie awkwardly.

"Are you alright?" Amelia asked, gliding gracefully down the last few steps and landing next to him.

"Yeah I'm…I'm fine," he stammered. His eyes flashed from her chest to her face and Amelia blushed. Marty looked away, embarrassed.

He was almost irresistibly handsome in his grey and black suit, with his hair combed back nicely and the smell of aftershave radiating from his skin. Amelia felt her heart speed up just looking at him and her whole body warmed by a few degrees. She glanced at his lips and an overwhelming desire to kiss him washed over her. It pulled at her from somewhere deep inside, a dangerous emotion that Amelia had very little experience with. It excited and intrigued her, but it also told her that now was not the time or place. _Say something, talk about something else, get your mind off of it. Try apologizing again._

Amelia nodded to herself and cleared her throat.

"Marty, can we talk?" Amelia actually saw him tense up. His whole body went from relaxed to rigid in a matter of seconds and her hopes of a conversation plummeted into oblivion.

"Aims, I want to," Marty said, "but I've really gotta get downtown with Doc. We've got to start setting stuff up or we'll never make it."

He started moving toward the front door.

"But this is really, really important, Marty," Amelia practically begged, reaching for him. Marty paused. She saw him debating with himself and Amelia thought briefly she had won. Then a cloud passed over his eyes and he pulled open the door.

"I'm sorry, Aims," Marty apologized, stepping out onto the front porch, "I gotta go. Take care of George, ok? Make sure he doesn't get himself killed by Biff."

Amelia opened her mouth to speak right as the door latched in her face. She blinked in confusion and then rushed to the window. She saw Marty walk across the lawn to where Emmett's big yellow Ford was parked and toss his coat inside. Anger swept through Amelia like wildfire. Why was he acting so childish? She had understood his standoffishness the first few times he had walked away from a conversation with her, but this was getting ridiculous. She was trying to make things right between them; the least he could do was give her the time of day!

"What's the matter?" Maggie asked, coming down the stairs.

"Nothing," Amelia said tersely, "Can you take me to school? I told George I'd meet him there."

* * *

Maggie didn't pull up to the school until eight twenty. They had had car trouble; Maggie's old Chevy had refused to start for about an hour. When it finally did roar to life it wouldn't allow them to exceed thirty miles an hour. The result was Amelia being very, very, very late. She didn't even wait for Maggie to stop the car. As soon as the Chevy had slowed enough for her to avoid serious injury, Amelia jumped out and sprinted towards the gym door.

Her intention had been to keep running until she found George, but three things stopped her. The first was the fact that she was supposed to act in accordance with the times, and in 1955 girls didn't run through buildings. The second was a massive wall of bodies prohibiting much movement of any kind. And the third was the unexpected transformation the gym had undergone.

The Hill Valley High School gymnasium was almost unrecognizable. The dance committee had had really gone all out on the decorations. Tinsel shimmered from nearly every wall, bouncing light back and forth and giving an underwater effect. Huge paper fish hung from the rafters and swayed in the breeze created by so many bodies. Giant pillars of coral twisted along the walls and a mermaid stood guard over the punch fountain. On stage a live band was wailing away, providing a least fifty couples with a reason to use the dance floor. Amelia looked around her with impressed eyes. HVH had never thrown a party like this in 1985.

She caught sight of George waving to her from across the gym and pushed her way through the mass of bodies. He was hovering nervously around the snack table, sweating profusely. As Amelia approached him she reached into her purse and pulled out a handkerchief.

"Here, please wipe wherever there's moisture," she said, handing it to him and making a face.

"Oh, thanks, I forgot mine," George said, reaching for it eagerly. He wiped his forehead vigorously. "You're over an hour late! I thought you weren't coming."

"I'm so sorry, George," Amelia apologized, "the car wouldn't start."

"I've been pacing for the past forty minutes," George rushed, "I'm so nervous…I think I might throw up."

"No," Amelia said, taking his arm, "No, George, please. You have to do this, ok? It's very important that you and Lorraine get together. You can't throw up."

George nodded with understanding, undoubtedly thinking about his endangered brain.

"I know, I know. I don't want to let anybody down." George finished wiping his forehead and offered her back her handkerchief. Amelia smiled and politely declined. He pocketed it.

"You won't let anybody down," Amelia reassured, giving his arm a squeeze.

"But I've never been with a girl before. I've never even held a girl's hand…" George flushed scarlet and didn't look at her.

"You've danced with a girl before though, right?" Amelia asked. George stared at his shoes. "Really? Oh, George…come here."

Amelia took his hand and pulled him to the dance floor. The song had just switched to a slower number and the couples around them cuddled close to one another. Amelia took George's hand, which she noticed was trembling terribly, and placed it on the small of her back. The other hand she held in her own. George stared at her, horrified.

"N-now what?"

"You lead," she smiled. "Trust me, it's easy. Just back and forth…back and forth…there you go!"

George turned them in a slow circle. It wasn't very graceful, but it was better than not moving at all. Amelia continued to praise him and George gradually began to build some confidence in himself. He didn't move any faster, but a smile did appear on his face. By the time the song had ended they had completed two-and-a-half turns and George was glowing with pride.

"Gee!" He said, laughing, "That was great!"

"Poor Lorraine," Amelia teased, "she's about to be swept off her feet and she doesn't even know it."

The band began to play another slow song and George insisted on practicing his dancing again. Amelia willingly agreed and, to her amazement, they started to turn a little faster. Apparently she was good at this "building self-esteem" thing.

"Did Marty sweep you off your feet?" George asked suddenly. Amelia blanched, startled.

"What?" she breathed.

"You said I'm going to sweep Lorraine off her feet," George clarified, "did Marty sweep you off your feet too?" Amelia bit her lip and looked over his shoulder. She wasn't sure how to answer him. "I'm sorry," George apologized, "I just thought you two were…"  
"No, no, George, it's alright," Amelia said, forcing a smile. "He…did, just like you will with Lorraine."

She knew it had been the right thing to say when a huge smile spread across George's face. He daringly twirled her away from him and back. Amelia laughed.

"You're getting pretty good at this," she praised.

"Thanks, I—oh no!" George suddenly froze. The color drained from his face.

"What? What's the matter?"

"I gotta go, its 8:55. I gotta meet Marty!"

George grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd. The minute they broke the barrier of bodies they started to run. George practically kicked the gym door open and flew down the stairs three at a time. Amelia, who had wrenched her hand free of his grasp, almost tripped on her way down the steps. She followed George across the schools lawn and to the parking lot. They rounded a corner and saw Emmett's yellow Ford, it was rocking violently. Amelia wrinkled her nose in disgust. Poor Marty.

"Alright, I'm going in," George said, straightening his jacket. "Wish me luck."

"Best of luck, George!" Amelia called as he marched away.

He was halfway to the Ford when Amelia noticed something. A face pressed up against the passenger side window. A face that definitely wasn't Marty's. Horror and recognition occurred at the same time. Biff was in the car with Lorraine.

Damn it.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I don't really own anything (sad face)

READ AND REVIEW!!!

***author's note***

**We're nearing the end, friends : ( I hope you enjoy the last few chapters of my fic! PS. Pick up your rebooted copy of BTTF on DVD 2/10!**

1955—Enchantment Under The Sea Dance

Saturday, November 12, Day Of Lightning Strike

Marty was in a trunk. He heard muffled voices arguing above him. The owners of the car were unhappy to say the least. Biff's gang had beaten him up and stuffed him in the back of a blue Cadillac, not noticing the five musicians smoking in the back. The musicians, however, _had_ noticed Biff's gang. Marty felt the car shake as they clambered out.

"What the hell you doin' to my car?" Marty heard an angry male voice demand.

"Hey, beat it spook, this don't concern you," a member of Biff's gang growled.

"Who you callin' spook, pecker-wood!"

"Hey, listen guys, I don't wanna go messin' with no reefer addicts, ok?" A higher voice reasoned.

"Then you better run, boy!"

Marty heard several pairs of shoes pound the blacktop and the angry voices began to fade away. He rolled onto his back and hammered on the trunk.

"Hey! Hey, lemme outta here!" he yelled.

"Marvin," Marty heard someone say, "there's a kid in your trunk!"

"Come on, open up!" Marty pounded harder.

"Lorenzo, where are your keys?"

Marty readjusted himself and felt something stab his shoulder. He reached behind him and pulled out a set of car keys. Great.

"The keys are in the trunk," Marty hollered.

"Say that again?" A voice yelled back.

"The keys are in the trunk!"

There was a moment of stunned silence and then the voices started arguing amongst themselves. The car shook again and someone started fiddling with the lock on the trunk. Several minutes of metallic scraping later, there was a click, a scream, and the trunk few open. Marty hurled himself onto the blacktop and started to run.

"Thanks man!" he called over his shoulder. The musicians exchanged confused glances.

Marty sprinted back to where the Ford was parked. He didn't even want to think about what Biff was doing to Lorraine, raping her most likely. The thought made his stomach turn and he pushed himself to run faster. He turned a corner and caught sight of Amelia standing about a hundred feet away from where the car was parked. She saw him too. Her eyes were wide and terrified.

"Marty!" She yelled, "George is—"

She gestured to the Ford and the large crowd now forming around it. Biff had George's arm twisted behind his back, threatening to break it. Lorraine was pounding on Biff's back and trying to make him stop. Marty saw Biff shove her to the ground and tighten his hold on George. George winced and then glared at Biff. The expression was so unexpected, so completely un-George, that Marty stopped running. He watched openmouthed as George's fist pulled back and connected with Biff's jaw. There was a bone shattering _crunch _and Biff collapsed in a heap. The crowd gasped.

"Whoa," Marty said, shocked. He looked at Amelia, who was watching George and smiling. Marty turned back to the action.

George stood shaking for a few moments. Then, with a visibly deep breath, he collected himself and pulled Lorraine to her feet. She beamed at him and linked her arm through his. The two started to stroll towards the gymnasium. The crowd babbled excitedly in their wake.

"Huh, how 'bout that," Marty said, grinning at Amelia. She didn't return it. "What's wrong?"

Amelia raised her eyebrows. The anger she had felt earlier had not been forgotten and now seemed like the perfect time to address it. She was tired of getting the cold shoulder and upset that he was acting so normally at the moment, like nothing was wrong or off at all. The whole situation was ridiculous and Amelia was going to make it known. Marty was going to hear her out this time if she had to pin him to the ground and force him to listen. She squared her shoulders and prepared for an argument.

"Are you gonna run away if I answer? Or do you actually want to have a conversation?"

"What are you talking about?" Marty asked, furrowing his brow.

"You!" Amelia said, raising her voice. "Every time I try to talk to you, you run away from me! Why are you being so childish?!"

Marty stared at her. She was picking now to have a fight? He had to make sure his parents kissed, he didn't have time for this right now. Did she want to ruin everything they had worked so hard for so close to the end? Marty felt a surge of anger. All right, if she wanted a fight she could have one! He would scream himself hoarse if it would end this foolishness faster.

"Childish?!" Marty said, his voice also escalating. "Excuse me, but who are you to be telling _anyone _they're being _childish!"_

"What is that supposed to mean?" Amelia asked, crossing her arms and bearing down on him.

The crowd that had gathered for the George-Biff faceoff started to circle them, intrigued by the yelling. Amelia and Marty ignored them despite their audible gossiping.

"Oh come on, Amelia," Marty yelled, "you've been acting like a five-year-old for the past few days, running around having temper tantrums for no reason!"

"NO REASON!" Amelia hollered, red in the face. Every rational thought she had had flew out of her head, a victim to the power of anger. The old fury she had felt towards him bubbled to the surface. "You _used _me!"

The crowd gasped and muttered insults in Marty's direction.

"You know that's not true, Amelia, you _know_ it!"

Amelia glared at him. Yes, she did know, she knew all too well. That angle would get her nowhere. She quickly switched tactics. "All you think about is yourself! I've been trying to talk to you for days but it's always 'me' that and 'I' this! 'I gotta go, I gotta go'! Well I wish you would!" Her voice cracked on the last word and she began to sob, "You're so selfish!"

"_Selfish!" _Marty screamed, his own face glowing red, "_Selfish?_ How can I be selfish if you're always there? If I'm always thinking about you?"

Amelia blinked at him through her tears, "What?"

Marty's shoulders sagged and he took a deep breath. The crowd alternated glances between them, enraptured by the drama.

"You're all I think about, Aims," he said, his voice softening. "When I wake up, you're there. When I go to bed, you're there. When I'm brushing my teeth, eating a sandwich, _shaving_, you're there! There's not a minute I don't think about you, or worry about you, or hope that you're happy."

"If you're so worried about me then why did you ignore me? Why wouldn't you talk to me?" Amelia choked, wiping her cheeks.

"Because I was afraid of making you angry." Marty snorted, "Guess that didn't work."

Amelia shifted her weight and looked at him, confused. "What are you saying?"

Marty took a step towards her. The crowd was silent, waiting anxiously for the verdict.

"Look, Aims," he said, taking a deep steadying breath, "I don't know if I love you, but I do know that I don't want to be without you. The past few days…I've been a wreck. I don't want to feel like that my whole life. Please, please forgive me."

Amelia looked from the crowd to Marty. His eyes were pleading. Amelia smiled and nodded.

"Yes."

Marty beamed and took her in his arms. They held each other tightly. It was like a reunion, a homecoming. Amelia clung to his jacket and took in his smell.

"Kiss her!" Somebody in the crowd yelled. The suggestion was met with an approving round of applause.

"Do you mind?" Marty murmured into her ear. Amelia felt her whole body tingle.

"No," she smiled.

Marty pushed her away slightly and gazed into her eyes. Then, gently, he covered her lips with his own. The crowd erupted, cheering madly. Amelia felt Marty smile and she kissed him a little harder. He cupped her head in his hands and pressed back. The crowd "awww'd" sweetly and Amelia giggled. She laid her head on Marty's shoulder and nuzzled into his neck. Everything should have been wonderful, but there was still one last trouble on her mind.

"What about Jennifer?" she whispered.

Marty was silent for a minute. Then he kissed the side of her head, "I'll take care of it…Don't worry, I don't want to hurt her either."

Amelia pulled out of the embrace.

"I'll help you. You don't have to do that alone. She deserves an explanation."

"Yeah," Marty nodded. The crowd began to disperse and Marty chanced a look at his watch. He winced when he saw the time. "Shit! Come on, we gotta get inside!"

* * *

The dance was at a complete standstill. Kids were standing around talking instead of dancing and the band was nowhere to be seen. Marty and Amelia spotted George and Lorraine leaning against a coral pillar, looking bored. Marty was in a panic. If there was no music his parents couldn't kiss, if his parents didn't kiss they couldn't fall in love, and if they didn't fall in love…well, he was history.

"Where's the band?" Amelia asked.

Marty knew exactly where the band was. He grabbed her hand and led the way to where the blue Cadillac was parked. The musicians were there, leaning against the bumper and smoking.

"Guys!" Marty called, "Guys, what are you doing? You gotta get back in there, you gotta play!"

"Hey man, we ain't playin' nothing," one of them said, flicking his ashes. "Marvin sliced his hand prying you outta the trunk. He's out for the count…'less you know somebody who can play guitar."

Marty and Amelia exchanged glances.

Five minutes later, Marty was up on stage with the rest of The Starlighters, strumming away on Marvin's electric guitar. The dance floor was packed again with happy couples. From the wings, Amelia could see George and Lorraine dancing. She looked at the clock across from her. 9:37. They were definitely cutting this close.

_Earth Angle, Earth Angle_

_Will you be mine_

_My darling d--_

Marvin, who had been singing, began to cough. The band exchanged worried glances and Amelia distinctly heard one of them say something about "too many cigarettes". Marvin continued to wheeze and he sat down on an amp. He shook his head in between coughing fits, communicating to the rest of them that he wasn't able to keep singing. The kids on the dance floor began to mumble and George and Lorraine stopped dancing. Marty shot a look at Amelia and jerked his head toward the microphone. Amelia's eyes widened when she figured out what he wanted.

"I can't sing!" Amelia mouthed.

"Aims, we don't have time for stage fright! Get out here and make my parents fall in love!"

Amelia bit her lip, closed her eyes, and rushed on stage. She tried not to look at all the expectant faces as she stepped up to the mic to finish the song. The couples, including George and Lorraine, began to dance again, satisfied that someone was willing to continue the number.

_Earth Angle, Earth Angle_

_Please be mine_

_My darling dear_

_Love you all the time_

_I'm just a fool, a fool in love_

_With you_

Marty and Amelia watched as George bent his head to kiss Lorraine as the song faded. They saw a smile spread across Lorraine's face and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Amelia and Marty exchanged a triumphant glance. Finally, everything was going as planned.

The kids started to applaud her and Amelia took a bow. At the back of the gym she saw another clock. She squinted at it in between curtsies until she was able to make out the time. Then she turned to Marty.

"We have to get downtown," she whispered urgently.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: Man, I WISH I owned BTTF

READ AND REVIEW!! : )

***author's note***

**So this took a long time (for me at least) to post. I attribute that to the fact that I don't want this fic to end! I've had so much fun writing it and have recieved so many positive reviews that I hate to see it come to an end! The more I write, the fewer chapters I have to go. Ah well...enjoy these last few installments, friends : )**

1955—Downtown Hill Valley

Saturday, November 12, Day of Lightning Strike

Emmett was beginning to get nervous. It was nine fifty and there was still no sign of Marty or Amelia. He compared the time on his watch to the clock tower and cursed, it was an exact match. If they didn't show up soon they would miss their opportunity and, since lightning was almost completely unpredictable, potentially have to remain in 1955 forever. While the idea of two Martys and two Amelias coexisting in Hill Valley intrigued Emmett, he didn't even want to think about the paradoxical opportunities something like _that _would present.

A roll of thunder rumbled threateningly and the wind started to pick up, swaying the electrical cables he had set up earlier. A few teasing drops of rain hit the roof of the DeLorean, but the clouds weren't ready to give birth to a downpour just yet. They loomed overhead, fat and black with rain, patiently waiting their cue. Emmett squinted up into the sky. The air was alive with a palpable electric current and through the thick mass of clouds he saw a faint flash of lightning. He checked his watch again. Nine fifty-two.

"Damn, damn!" Emmett cursed.

He started to pace but stopped when he heard, muffled slightly by the now continuous growl of thunder, the squeal of tires gripping asphalt. Emmett turned in the direction of the squealing in time to be blinded by a pair of headlights rounding the corner. He looked away and a moment later his yellow Ford was parked next to him.

"It's about time you got here!" Emmett scolded as Marty and Amelia hopped out of the car. To his surprise, they were both wearing the clothes from 1985 they had arrived in. "You _changed? _Do you two have any concept of time whatsoever?"

"Come on, Doc," Marty said, skirting around the front of the Ford and joining him on the curb, "did you think we were going back lookin' like that? Besides, we didn't stop or anything, we changed in the car on the way over."

Emmett muttered something unintelligible but decided to drop the subject. He led them quickly to the DeLorean and began giving them a hurried description of what was supposed to happen.

"Alright," he said, opening the gull-wing door and plopping into the driver's seat, "This is the exact time you left. I'm gonna send you back at exactly the same time. It'll be like you never left," Emmett punched numbers into the keypad while he spoke. "Now, I painted a white line on the street way over there, that's where you start from. I've calculated the distance and wind resistance fresh to active from the moment the lightning strikes, at exactly 7 minutes and 22 seconds. When this alarm goes off you hit the gas." He indicated an alarm clock attached to the dashboard.

"Got it, Doc," Marty said, tapping the roof of the DeLorean and stepping back so Emmett could climb out.

"So, is that it then?" Amelia asked as he straightened up. "We're…good?"

"I suppose so," Emmett said. He looked at both of them in turn, a sad smile on his lips.

"Thanks, Doc," Marty said, offering his hand. Emmett took it and pulled him into a hug.

"Thank _you_," he insisted, patting Marty's back affectionately. The two separated a moment later and Emmett turned to Amelia.

A million things flashed through Amelia's mind as she gazed into her father's big brown eyes. The old emotions stirred inside of her, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins kept a breakdown at bay. Without tears her grief felt empty, hollow but strangely liberating. Amelia almost preferred this vacant sorrow to the crippling anguish she had experienced before. This was a grief that mobilized her and allowed her to act, a grief that inspired rather than debilitated.

Without thinking twice, Amelia threw her arms around Emmett's waist and pressed her head to his chest. Half a beat later, Emmett's arms hesitantly wrapped themselves around her shoulders. He rested his chin on the top of her head and let out a low sigh.

Then, almost silently so that only she could hear, he whispered, "I have to wait thirteen years for this?"

Amelia pulled out of the hug to look at him. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Did he know what they were to each other? She studied him a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. Emmett's eyes were soft and kind. He smiled warmly at her and Amelia was certain Emmett was aware of their relationship to each other. She embraced him again, tighter this time.

"Say goodbye to Maggie for me," she whispered back. Emmett nodded. With a smile she let him go and crossed to the passenger side door.

Marty, who had politely directed his attention elsewhere during their goodbye, cleared his throat. "Well, we probably should get this show on the road, eh, Doc?"

"Right," Emmett said briskly, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. "Don't worry about at thing. As long as you hit that wire with the connecting hook at precisely 88 miles per hour, the instance the lightning strikes the tower everything will be fine."

"Sweet," Marty lowered into the driver's seat and started to situate himself.

Amelia was about to do the same when the look on Emmett's face stopped her. He was frowning and fishing around inside his pocket. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized what he had found. A second later, Emmett's hand emerged from the recesses of his pocket clutching her letter. He opened the envelope and took out the piece of paper. Amelia watched his eyes scan the first line and widen with terror.

"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded, brandishing the letter. Marty, who looked absolutely baffled, shrugged. Emmett's face reddened and he rounded on Amelia. "What are you trying to do by giving me this information? Don't you know the possible ramifications?"

"Please," Amelia began. Emmett cut her off.

"I refuse to accept this responsibility!" He stormed, and to Amelia's horror he started to tear up the letter.

"No!" She said, he voice cracking involuntarily.

Marty, confused by the sudden turn everything had taken, leaned out of the car.

"Doc, what the he—"

_Bong! _He was cut off by the clock striking ten.

They all became suddenly aware of just how harshly the wind was blowing. It whipped the power chords back and forth and stirred the fallen leaves into little tornadoes in the street. The thunder was a perpetual roar punctuated by the occasional crack of lightning, yet the rain still held off. Emmett ordered them into the DeLorean and instructed them to reverse the car to the white line he had painted. With one last disparaging look, Amelia lowered herself into the passenger seat and shut the door. As Marty shifted the car into reverse and pulled away from Emmett, Amelia no longer felt the hollow sorrow she had before, nor did the tears feel as if they threatened to overcome her. In fact, she felt nothing at all. She was numb.

Emmett watched Marty reverse the DeLorean until it was out of sight. He exhaled heavily and looked at the torn and wrinkled paper in his hand. He should throw it away; just toss it in the trash can next to him. But there had been something in Amelia's eyes, desperation maybe? Pain definitely. The memory caused him to hesitate.

He was considering what to do when an earsplitting crack sounded behind him. Emmett turned. A lightning bolt had struck the limb of a tree and it had fallen directly onto the power cable, disconnecting it from the top of the clock tower. Emmett yelped, stuffed the handful of paper back in his pocket, and sprinted toward the clock tower. He had four minutes to climb to the top and reconnect the cable before Marty and Amelia hit the wire. As the expression goes, this was heavy.

* * *

"What the hell was that all about?" Marty asked when they had parked behind the white line.

Amelia didn't answer for a moment. She stared blankly ahead of her and clutched at the seat. She was waiting for some sort of feeling to return. When almost a minute had passed and nothing came, she drew a long breath, turned to him, and started to calmly explain.

"I wrote him a letter," Amelia said, her voice was almost monotone. "I was trying to save him. So, I wrote him a letter explaining what was going to happen and how he should prepare himself for it. And he…tore it up…"

Marty blinked at her, "Shit."

"Yeah," Amelia nodded. "Now I don't know what to do. If we only had more time—"

"We do!" Marty exclaimed. Amelia looked at him. "Aims, we've got a _time machine_. We've got as much time as we want! Ten minutes should be good, don't you think?"

A hint of something that felt strangely like hope started to form inside her. Amelia relaxed her grip on the seat, relieved that she wasn't completely dead inside. She watched Marty punch in the extra time with a new found determination. She would save her father's life, losing him twice was not an option.

"That outta do it," Marty said. He checked the clock on the dashboard and revved the engine, "Thirty five seconds."

Amelia nodded and Marty anxiously revved the engine again. It snarled, coughed, sputtered, and then died completely. Marty's eyes went wide and he looked at Amelia. She shook her head in disbelief.

"Please tell me that you accidentally turned it off," she said, closing her eyes.

"I accidentally turned it off."

"Liar."

"I'll get it," He said. He turned the starter but nothing happened. Frowning, he flicked it twice more and got the same result. "Alright, you," Marty muttered, turning the key harder. Still nothing. "Come on, come on, this time! Damn it! God damn piece of junk! Start!"

The alarm clock rang, signaling them to go. Marty jerked the starter violently and stomped on the gas with all his might. The DeLorean remained unmoving. In a fit of exasperation he slammed his head onto the steering wheel. The car roared to life underneath them. Marty shot up and without missing a beat shifted it into drive and floored the accelerator. They took off down the straight stretch of road, leaving behind tire tracks and the smell of burning rubber.

* * *

Emmett was dangling from the roof of the clock tower. In one hand was the cable preventing him from falling the two hundred-and-some feet to his death. In the other was the cable he needed to reconnect. The problem was in finding the necessary upper body strength with which to pull himself up. At the moment he was simply dangling in mid-air. It was at times like these that Emmett wished he had been more adept in gym class.

The minute hand began to move and Emmett felt his stomach clench uncomfortably. He only had about another minute until Marty and Amelia came streaking towards him. He yanked at the cable in his non life sustaining hand, trying to pull the plug closer to its mate. It wouldn't budge. The fallen branch was preventing it. In the distance, Emmett heard the rev of an engine and he pulled harder. The cable finally gave and he was able to insert the plug into its socket.

The roar of an engine told Emmett that they were on their way. He was about to swing back onto the ledge of the clock tower when he noticed another problem. When he had yanked the cable it had disconnected itself again. The line running between the light poles and the one attached to the clock tower were not connected. Emmett shot a quick glance down the street. He could see the headlights of the DeLorean drawing closer and knew he would never make it down the stairs in time. Frantically, he looked around for something to help him. He found an extra length of cable and lassoed it around one of the taunt lines he had installed. Then, closing his eyes and mustering what courage he could, he zip lined to the ground.

He hit the ground with a dull thud and sprinted to the disconnected stretch of cable. Grabbing both ends, he attempted to force them together. However, how the branch had landed made it impossible for the line to move any farther. Try though he might it wouldn't budge. Emmett looked behind him. The DeLorean was about fifty feet away and moving fast. There was no time to find more cable. He would have to use himself to conduct the current.

The minute hand on the clock moved again and at precisely that moment a giant bolt of lightning struck the rod on the clock tower. Electricity ran from the tower, down the wire, and through Emmett's body. Emmett convulsed and was shot backwards as the current was passed on. As he flew backwards, he caught a glimpse of the DeLorean streaking by, connecting with the wire, and being enveloped in a sphere of blue and white light. Emmett hit the ground just as a series of sonic booms fired off...then there was silence.

Emmett pushed himself up carefully. Everything was still; even the storm seemed to have subsided. He looked around cautiously. In front of him were two bright orange lines of fire. He had done it. They were gone.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it

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1985—Twin Pines Mall

October 26th

With a deafening crack the DeLorean made its reentry to the Hill Valley of 1985, ripping through the space/time continuum like it was Jell-O. The tires shrieked as they made contact with the wet pavement and the DeLorean fishtailed dangerously. Marty straightened the wheels out and tried to brake, but the car's momentum was too great. It went hurdling down the street at breakneck speed and crashed head-on into the Assembly of Christ church. The impact jerked Marty and Amelia forward, causing their seatbelts to lock and crush painfully into their sternums. Amelia felt the wind get knocked out of her and she gasped for breath. The DeLorean lurched forward a few more feet before a large support beam got in the way, causing it to stop. For a moment they sat panting and reorienting themselves. Then Marty turned to her.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice full of concern.

"Yeah," Amelia said, rubbing her chest.

"Good."

Marty threw the car in reverse and floored the gas again. The DeLorean spun out of the rubble and back into the open street. He drove forward about a hundred feet before stopping and killing the engine.

"What are you doing?" Amelia asked, leaning across the armrest. "We've gotta get to the mall!"

"I'm making sure we're where we're supposed to be," Marty said, shoving the gull-wing door open and jumping out.

"We have windows!" Amelia said frantically. "Marty, please get back in the car, we've gotta go! It's already 1:24!"

Marty winced guiltily as the bank clock confirmed what had she said. His stomach clenched. The excitement of returning to their own time had completely driven Emmett and the Libyans from his mind. With an apologetic look, Marty climbed back in the car, closed the door, and twisted the starter. The engine sputtered and died.

"No," Amelia breathed. "No, no, no!"

He turned the key again. The engine hissed angrily and refused to catch.

"Shit!" Marty yelled, punching the steering wheel.

Amelia leaned her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. This wasn't happening.

Marty looked at her and instantly hated himself. This was all his fault. What had possessed him to get out of the car? More importantly, what had made he think it was a good idea to turn it off in the first place? If it weren't for his stupidity they would be driving to Twin Pines mall this minute.

He was about to slip off into his own self loathing when the sound of an oncoming car caught his ear. Marty looked in the side view mirror and saw a familiar blue and white Volkswagen bus speeding toward them. Amelia's head snapped up and she glanced at him uneasily, she had heard it too. Marty, making a split second decision, turned to her and unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Get out of the car, we're running."

* * *

Marty and Amelia sprinted, panting and sweaty, down the long drive that led to the JC Penney's parking lot. They could hear shouting and Einstein barking madly. Amelia's heart was racing was pure adrenaline. They were so close. If they could just make it down the driveway before the Libyan's had a chance to open fire Amelia was sure they had a good chance of saving Emmett.

Marty grabbed Amelia's hand and dragged her the last twenty feet or so to the illuminated mall sign. Crouching behind it, they watched as the Volkswagen bus skidded to a stop in front of Emmett. Amelia made to stand but Marty pulled her back down

"What are you doing?!" She demanded angrily, "He's right there!"

"Aims, we can't go down there now…they're too close."

_We're too late, you mean, _Amelia thought, her chest heaving.

Sure enough, a round of machinegun fire echoed through the air, making Amelia jump. She peered over the top of the sign in time to see Emmett collapse to the ground. Next to her, Marty jerked. She looked at him. Two wet lines glistened on his cheeks and his hands were balled into fists. Amelia started to reach for him but more machinegun fire wrenched her attention back to the parking lot. Their other selves had jumped inside the DeLorean and were speeding across the empty lot with the Volkswagen bus in hot pursuit, leaving Emmett forgotten on the ground.

"Come on," Marty's voice was surprisingly steady. He took her hand and they ran to where Emmett lay unmoving.

Amelia fell to her knees next to her father. She pressed her hand to his cheek and swallowed hard. They were too late. He was gone. Marty crouched down next to her and she threw herself against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and Amelia burst into tears, sobbing like a madwoman. Marty carefully rotated his body away from Emmett, blocking Amelia's view of him. He tried to say something comforting but his voice cracked. Amelia felt some of his tears fall on the top of her head and his body shake slightly.

"What's this?"

Marty and Amelia jumped and spun around. Emmett was sitting behind them and watching their display of grief with a keen interest. He smiled at the shocked looks on their faces.

"How the hell—" Marty began.

Emmett raised a hand and unbuttoned his coat. Underneath, and splattered with holes, was a bullet proof vest. Marty raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"But…but you tore up my letter…"Amelia whispered. She reached out to touch him, to make sure he was real. Emmett took her hand in his. It was warm and firm to the touch.

"Well…" Emmett said, reaching with his other hand into his coat and pulling out a sheet of paper that looked more like a jigsaw puzzle than a letter, "not exactly."

Amelia took it. Underneath a layer of scotchtape her handwriting was scrawled on the yellowing page.

"What about all that talk about not knowing too much about your own future?" Marty asked, clearing his throat and attempting to regain his composure. Emmett grinned again.

"I figured—what the hell?" He shrugged.

Amelia flew at him then, and caught him in a hug tight enough to guaranty that he would never be pulled away from her again. She never wanted to feel empty, or lost, or scared, or uncertain, or sad when it came to him for the rest of her life. The rest of the world could go to hell, Marty could walk away, she could end up a beggar, but she would make sure Emmett was always there, always with her, that much she knew.

"No more tears," Emmett murmured, kissing the top of her head, "either of you."

Marty smiled sadly, stood up, and offered Emmett a hand.

"You sure gave us a run for our money, Doc," he said, helping him to his feet.

"I apologize for that," Emmett said sincerely, "I shouldn't have gotten you two mixed up with those Libyans."

"It's alright, Dad," Amelia smiled and took his hand. He squeezed it gently.

"No, it was irresponsible," he insisted. There was a pause, Marty and Amelia didn't really know what to say. Emmett sighed and continued, "Well at least it's over and done with and nobody's hurt. Great Scott!" he exclaimed suddenly, checking the time on his watch. "Look at the time! We need to get going. Help me pack up."

* * *

They pulled out of the JC Penney's parking lot with the DeLorean stuffed in the back of Emmett's big white van. There being only two seats, Amelia sat on Marty's lap with his arms wound tightly around her. Emmett, of course, was driving and Einstein lie curled up in between them, his tail drumming contentedly on the floor. Amelia reached down and ruffled his fur. Einstein replied with an affectionate, and sloppy, kiss across her forearm.

Amelia nestled against Marty's chest and rested her head on his shoulder. Everything that had happened in the pat twenty-four hours was finally catching up with her and total exhaustion was only a yawn away. Her eyelids felt too heavy to hold up, and despite her attempts to keep her them open her eyes kept sliding stubbornly shut. As Emmett turned down the familiar stretch of road leading to their house Amelia felt herself starting to slip, and by the time he had pulled the van onto their driveway she was completely unconscious.

"Take her inside and put her on the couch," Emmett whispered to Marty as he killed the engine. "Then come back out here and I'll drive you home."

Marty scooped Amelia's limp body into his arms and stepped delicately from the van. She moaned quietly, upset at being moved, and wrapped an arm around his neck. He smiled at her and carried her into the darkened house, Einstein trotting happily next to him. Once inside, Marty was extra careful not to trip over anything in the blackness. He felt his way to the living room and the couch. Then, ever so gently, he set her down.

Amelia mumbled something and settled herself on the cushions. Marty stood over her, just watching her sleep for a moment. A smile was playing at her lips. He bent and pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and Amelia sighed contentedly. The relief he felt at being back home was etched all over her untroubled sleeping face. Finally they could relax. They didn't have to worry about paradoxes or dead fathers…they could breath peacefully with the knowledge that everything was back to normal.

Placing a soft kiss on her forehead, Marty hurried back through the dark house and out into the night. Home and his own bed were waiting for him. The thought was exceptionally wonderful, even more so since he had been sleeping on someone's hardwood floor for the past week. To have a real mattress again would be like sleeping on a cloud. Marty's body felt heavy and sluggish. He'd have no problem falling asleep.

He turned off the front walk and halted in surprise. The DeLorean was sitting on the driveway next to the van. Emmett was filling it with things: luggage, gadgets, extra plutonium. Marty frowned and approached him slowly. He didn't like the look of what was going on. Not so soon after he had returned, at least. If Emmett thought he was up for another joyride through time, he was crazy.

"Doc," Marty said carefully, "what are you doing? I thought you were taking me home."

"I am," Emmett said, slamming the hood of the DeLorean shut and opening the driver's side door.

Marty barely had time to feel relief. Where did Emmett think he was going? "I don't understand"

"I'm taking you home," Emmett explained as he got in the car, "and then I'm going, by myself, on a time traveling expedition."

Marty felt his jaw drop.

"You—you can't! Doc, don't you know what we've just been through?!"

"Of course, Marty, I lived it with you," Emmett said gently. "Please get in the car and I'll explain." Marty did as he was told. As soon as he was buckled and they were moving, Emmett started to talk again. "I have to do this, Marty; this is my life's work. I can't just let it rust in the garage for all eternity."

"But what about Amelia?" Marty insisted. "She's going to be a wreck when she wakes up and sees that you're gone. Doc, how can you do that to her?"

"She won't wake up and see that I'm gone," Emmett assured. "I'll make sure of it."

"Doc…" Marty moaned, running a hand through his hair.

He understood completely Emmett's desire to use the machine he had spent thirty years developing, but now was not exactly the opportune moment. Couldn't he wait until the shock of his sudden death/resurrection had worn off? Then, at least, there was a good chance that Amelia wouldn't totally freak out. He was just about to bring up this point when he noticed they were cruising through Lyon Estates about two houses away from his own. The time for reasoning was up. Emmett pulled onto Marty's driveway and let the engine idle.

"Well, here's your stop," Emmett said.

Marty looked at him and nodded. He pushed open the door and crawled out. Before shutting it, he reached across the seat and offered Emmett his hand.

"Good luck, Doc," he said. Emmett smiled and grasped Marty's hand in his. "Where exactly are you going?"

"About thirty years into the future, I think," Emmett grinned.

"Well, look me up when you get there, ok? I guess I'll be around…forty-seven," Marty took his hand back and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans.

"You bet," Emmett said. Marty was about to slam the car door shut when Emmett stopped him, "Hey, Marty…take care of her, ok?"

Marty, taken off guard, hesitated for a moment. Then he smiled, "You don't have to tell me, Doc. See ya."

He closed the door and watched Emmett reverse into the street. Then he turned and headed for the gate leading to his backyard and his open bedroom window. Marty was just about to slide the metal clasp open when he heard the familiar round of sonic booms sound off behind him. He hoped that Emmett was right when he said Amelia wouldn't even know that he was gone. To leave her all alone like that, with only Einstein for company, was unfair.

With a heavy sigh, Marty silently crossed his backyard and slid his bedroom window open. He crawled inside and immediately collapsed on the bed, fully dressed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: Alas...still not mine

READ AND REVIEW!!!!

***author's note***

**Well this is it, gang. The last chapter. The end of an era. It was a sad day for me, even though I know that later on I'm only going to start writing the sequel : ) Still, I hate to see a good thing end. Alright, now for some important information. "Broken" is Jennifer's side to the end of this chapter. YOU NEED TO READ IT! IT'S VERY VERY VERY IMPORTANT TO THE PLOT OF THE SECOND STORY!!! Just a helpful hint : )**

1985—Brown House

October 26th, 9:30am

Amelia woke up to Einstein's hot breath in her face. She opened one eye and peeked at him. Einstein, seeing she was awake, barked loudly and licked her face. He pranced in a full circle before coming to a stop, sitting on his haunches, and whining softly in her face. Amelia wiped the slobber off of her cheek and muttered at him to stop. He put his paws on the edge of the couch and pushed his muzzle against her shoulder. Amelia groaned and tried to shove him away but Einstein wasn't having it, he wanted her to get up.

"Einie, come on," she begged, still trying to push him down, "I just want to go back to sleep."

Einstein whined again and shoved her shoulder harder. Amelia sighed and opened both eyes. He smiled at her, tongue lolling in his mouth, and jumped back from the couch with a robust bark. He knew he had won. Amelia glared at him and sat up.

"Well don't you think you're clever," she said grumpily.

Einstein kissed her again. Amelia rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Right, right, you love me. But that's only because I have opposable thumbs and can let you outside." At the mention of "outside", Einstein's tale wagged madly. He spun in an excited circle. "See what I mean? Come on, you."

Amelia pushed herself off the couch and took Einstein to the back door. He streaked passed her the moment she opened it, chasing an unfortunate squirrel who had decided the Brown's backyard was a perfect place to collect nuts. She shut the door on Einstein's barks and shuffled groggily into the kitchen.

The clock above the stove read nine thirty. Amelia rubbed her eyes and went to the pantry. She took down a box of _Cornflakes _and set it, along with a bowl and spoon, on the table. Then she staggered to the refrigerator for a carton of milk. She had just closed the door when a Post-It note stuck to the center of the fridge door caught her eye. Her father's sloppy handwriting was scrawled across it.

_Amelia,_

_I went out. Go to Marty's and wait for me there._

_Love, Dad_

"Out?" Amelia mouthed, frowning.

She took the note and the carton of milk back to the table with her. After pouring her _Cornflakes_ and milk into a bowl, Amelia stuck the Post-It to the milk carton and stared at it while she ate. It was so strange. "Go to Marty's". Why did she have to go anywhere? Why couldn't Emmett just come home? Amelia sighed and crunched on a spoonful of cereal. Trying to figure out why Emmett did what he did was like trying to teach Einstein Spanish, pointless and frustrating.

Amelia downed the last of her breakfast and put the dirty dishes in the sink. Stretching, she looked at the clock again. It was nine forty-five. Emmett's note hadn't specified exactly when he wanted her at Marty's. Amelia bit her lip, thinking, and ran her fingers through her hair. She felt the oils on her scalp and made a face.

_Shower first, then Marty's_, she decided.

* * *

1985—McFly House

October 26th, 10:28am

Marty's clock radio went off much earlier than he would've liked. The radio clicked on, blasting music above his head. He groaned and pressed his face further into the pillow in the hopes of drowning out Huey Lewis. No such luck. Huey's voice rang loud and clear through the stuffing. Irritated, Marty sat up and hit the snooze button on the clock radio. The music stopped but new sounds replaced it. Marty could hear talking and the clinking of silverware coming from down the hall. His family was awake and having breakfast. Marty looked longingly at his pillow, torn between more sleep and the prospect of food. He debated for a long second before letting his hunger win.

Yawning and fixing the straps of his suspenders, Marty made his way down the hallway and to the kitchen. As he passed the opening to the living room Marty did a double take. For a moment he thought he was in the wrong house. The furniture was completely different_. _Instead of the old hand-me-down sofa and armchairs they had gotten from George's parents the furniture was new and modern looking. Marty gazed around slowly. The rest of the house seemed to be the same way, brand new, streamlined, and stylish. He stood in shock, completely disoriented. It wasn't until he heard his name being called that Marty was able to snap out of it.

"What's the matter, Marty?" Linda, his sister, asked.

Marty blinked at her, openmouthed. The Linda sitting at the dining room table was nothing like the Linda he had had dinner with the night before…or a week ago depending on how you looked at it. This Linda was dressed fashionably, her hair was done nicely, and her makeup wasn't too overbearing. The Linda he had left behind was, well, kind of trashy looking. It was a nice, albeit confusing, change.

"What the hell is going on here," Marty asked.

"Breakfast," Linda replied. She glanced at Dave, their brother, and Marty started. He hadn't noticed him before.

The last time Marty had seen Dave he had been broke, carless, and working at the Burger King next to Emmett's house. This Dave was sitting at the dining room table in a three piece suit and reading the _Wall Street Journal. _It was all too _Twilight Zone_-y for ten thirty in the morning.

"What the hell are you wearing, Dave?" Marty asked, inching forward cautiously.

"Marty," Dave said, looking at him strangely, "I always wear a suite to the office."

"Oh…"

George in Lorraine came in through the sliding glass patio door then, laughing and chatting noisily. Even his parents seemed different. George looked confident, Lorraine looked…thin. Marty felt the sudden impulse to faint but controlled it. He opted instead for a tight grasp on a nearby chair.

"Well, good morning sleepy head," Lorraine said brightly when she saw him. She crossed to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You've been asleep forever. We thought you'd never wake up!"

"Biff dropped off your keys earlier, son," George said. He reached into his pocket and tossed Marty a set of car keys.

"Biff?" Marty muttered.

"He said he waxed it up nice for you, but you know Biff. Better go outside and make sure he didn't cheat you out of something."

"Er…right. Thanks, Dad." Marty backed slowly out of the dining room and headed for the front door. Something very strange was going on, although he wasn't entirely sure that it was a bad thing.

Clutching the car keys, Marty stepped outside into the sunlight and crossed to the garage. When he opened the door his mouth fell open. A huge black Toyota 4x4 was parked inside, gleaming with a fresh coat of wax. Marty whistled and walked up to it. A business card was stuck underneath one of the wipers. He took it out and looked at it. _Biff's Automotive Detail, _Marty read. He smirked with satisfaction.

"Marty."

He turned around. Amelia was standing just outside the garage. She, unlike him, had managed to change her clothes and was wearing a clean pair of blue jeans and a navy blue sweater. Marty found himself giving Amelia the onceover as he walked towards her.

"Hey, how are you?" He asked, hoping that he hadn't been too obvious in checking her out.

"Fine," she said, smiling. "My dad left me a note saying to wait for him here. Do you know what's going on?"

Marty shook his head, "Nope. But I'm glad he came back."

"Came back?" Amelia's brow creased.

"He...well, maybe I should just let him explain, ok?"

"Alright," Amelia said, slightly confused. She shook it off and changed the subject. "Did you…eh…have a good sleep?"

"Yeah, thanks," he said. "You?"

"Yep."

"Good," he nodded. "I…I really like your sweater." _I really like your sweater? That's the best you could do McFly?_

"Thanks," Amelia grinned, blushing a little.

The looked at each other for a long awkward moment and Marty gave her a lopsided smile. He took a step closer and thought about reaching out to touch her, but didn't. Neither of them could tell what the other expected. Should they kiss? Or was that off limits now that they were back in 1985, back where Jennifer really existed?

As if on cue they heard footsteps approaching, and even though they weren't particularly close Amelia backed away. Jennifer entered the garage a moment later, all smiles and bouncing hair. When she saw Amelia a small crease formed across her forehead, although the smile stayed glued firmly in place.

"Hey, guys," she said brightly. "What are you doing here so early, Amelia?"

"Just…hanging out."

"At ten forty-five in the morning?" Jennifer laughed. She went up to Marty and kissed him full on the mouth. "Good morning, Handsome."

"Morning, Jen," Marty said. He forced a grin that Jennifer did not fail to notice.

"What's wrong?" Jennifer demanded, looking anxious.

Marty shifted his feet and cleared his throat.

"Eh…Jen," he began uncomfortably, "we've been meaning to talk to you. Amelia and I…well…it's kinda complicated. Ya see," Marty took a deep breath and looked her square in the eye, "I don't know if we can be together anymore."

Jennifer stared at him blankly. "Excuse me?"

"Us, Jen…I'm not sure that we're a good idea anymore."

"What are you talking about? Why not?" She was doing her best to maintain her composure but Amelia could hear the angry cracks in her voice.

"Well…eh…"

"Because of me," Amelia cut in.

Jen looked from her to Marty and back again.

"Oh," she said shortly, putting her hands on her hips. "What exactly is going on here?"

"Marty and I are, well…we care about each other." Amelia went to stand next to him and he linked his fingers through hers. Jennifer raised her eyebrows.

"I see," Jennifer didn't bother to hide her angry now. Her words came out in venomous spurts, "And how long exactly as this been going on behind my back?"

"Jen, it's not like that," Marty insisted, touching her shoulder.

"Clearly it is!" She stormed, shaking him off. All the composure she had fought so hard to maintain flew out the window. "Do you think I'm dumb? You didn't just decide this overnight! You said you loved me, Marty! You said I was the only girl for you! You said you wanted to take us to the next level! Is this the next level, Marty? Breaking up? And _you,_" Jennifer snarled, rounding on Amelia, "I've known you forever! You're supposed to be my best friend, and here I find you putting the moves on my boyfriend! I can't believe you, either of you!"

"Jen, it's really more complicated than you think. Neither of us want to hurt you," Amelia said carefully.

"That's strange, cause I _really _want to hurt you."

"Jen, don't be like this," Marty begged.

"Don't be like this? You two can run around betraying people and I can't get pissed off? Well how convenient for you!" Jennifer glared at them and turned to go.

"Where are you going?" Marty asked, taking a step away from Amelia. He didn't want to see Jen do anything stupid.

"Home," she growled, not looking at them. "I'd stick around and let you two rip out my heart some more, but I have algebra homework." Then she marched down the driveway and was gone.

Amelia turned to Marty and hugged him from behind. He slumped into her. Neither of them had wanted to hurt Jennifer like that. Marty turned to her and brushed his hand down the side of her face. His eyes were sad and troubled and Amelia knew hers must look the same way. Jennifer had always been a part of the mix, and now the chances of that continuing looked thin…smaller than thin, miniscule. They couldn't blame her though. From her perspective everything _had _changed overnight. On Friday Marty had loved her and on Saturday he was running around with her "best friend". To outside eyes, what Marty and Amelia had just done looked absolutely terrible.

"Marty, I—"

A _crash_ coming from the driveway intruded on their moment and what Amelia had been about to say. They watched as a couple of garbage cans rolled into view, spraying trash everywhere. Marty and Amelia hurried out of the garage and nearly ran into the DeLorean, which was parked half on pavement and half on Marty's front lawn. A gull-wing door popped open and Emmett, looking like an updated version of Ronald McDonald, stepped out.

"Good, you're here! Get in the car, both of you!"

"What? What's going on?" Marty asked. They watched Emmett scurry to one of the spilled garbage cans and scoop up a handful of trash. "What are you doing, Doc?"

"I need fuel," Emmett said quickly. "Now get in the car, we don't have time! We have to get back to the future."

Emmett ran to the rear of the DeLorean and pushed a white food processor-like thing open. He threw the garbage inside and reattached the lid. The _"Mr. Fusion" _started to rumble appreciatively as it churned up the trash.

"Doc, we're having a very tough day. Can't we do this later?"

"A very tough day? Marty, if you thought that was bad you're going to hate your life in 2015!"

"What are you talking about, Dad?" Amelia asked. "What happens?"

"It's Jennifer!" Emmett said, going to the driver's side door and climbing in. "Something has to be done about Jennifer!"

Marty and Amelia exchanged a quick glance then hurried to pile into the passenger seat. Emmett reversed off the driveway and into the street where he let the DeLorean idle for a moment. Marty peered up the street and frowned. It wasn't nearly long enough.

"Hey Doc, you better back up," he said, turning to Emmett. "We don't have enough road to get up to 88."

"Roads? Where we're going we don't need roads."

Emmett flicked a switch on the dashboard and the DeLorean started to vibrate. Then, to Marty and Amelia's amazement, it levitated off the ground. They watched as Lyon Estates shrunk underneath them. Then Emmett pushed a button labeled _Hyper Boost_ and the car streaked across the sky. In a matter of seconds the DeLorean had reached 88 miles per hour and was on its way to 2015.

**To Be Continued...**


End file.
